they start at my toes,
wings barely spread as they migrate to the north -
winter sent them south but now the sun calls them back.
they flutter and flap up along the ridge of my ankle,
to the side of my calf. their feathers tickle the back of my knee,
their wing span stretching to my thigh,
dipping down along my hip as they soar past my waistline,
following the swirl of my navel, the mountain curves of my ribs
and the valleys between them. they glide up my breastbone
and double back along my collar, perching on my shoulder
to greet the sun's first rays.
then they descend,
black ink blurs down the pale stretch of my arm,
nesting in the crook of my elbow, while some -
younger and darker and daring and unafraid of the sky -
soar further on to my palms and off the tips of my fingers,
wings spread wide for the first time.