Laid
bare,
barren,
broken down,
but pieces form art.
Driftwood rises above its end
forming a bird of legend with magical power,
spinning ashes to art, renewing the forlorn and forgotten, even transcending.

Copyright 2016 Brenda Davis Harsham

Notes: This is a Fibonacci Poem (0r “fib” for short). Each succeeding line is equal in syllable length to the total syllables in the preceding two lines, or: one, one, two, three, five, eight, thirteen, twenty-one, thirty-four, etc. I’ve written two other fibs, Star Fairy and Fairy Ball.

This poem will be my weekly Poetry Friday tiddly-wink of word play. Thanks Violet Nesdoly for hosting and posting that moving photo and poem about forest fires. My heart goes out to the people of Fort McMurray, Canada. And to the wildlife equally homeless. May everyone have a safe and magical weekend. Warmly, Brenda