In the forest a bird rises from an
old and lengthy tree.
As it beats its feathers it looks
out from there to see
The mountainside, so wild and green
the bird begins to sound.
Its voice is a crescendo
That is heard from all around.
From its perch the bird can see a
Labyrinth, frigid dark.
This frosted crypt with cobalt veins
Left in the earth its mark.
The bird then flew down from its perch
And in the crypt he saw
A bluish cave with beauty
Without a single flaw.
And though the bird was mesmerized by
What he had just found
It realized, as nature has
Birds are not for the ground.
And as it then thought to itself
The time has come for home
For beauty means not anything
When experienced alone.
About the Author
Samuel Maffioli is from Grand Forks BC, and as of this year moved to Castlegar as a first-year student at Selkirk College. He is currently enrolled in a creative writing class, and as of this semester has a newfound passion for writing poetry.
