Lie on your back.
Watch the sky.
Watch for Mother.
Hear her wings, two showers
Of bismuth feathers,
Gleaming. Iridescent.
She calls.
Answer in your two-tone warble.
Listen to her returning-song.
She alights,
And the sky no more
Is cold and empty white and blue.
She is a firmament of colour
Embracing you
Drawing you into a world of feathers.