The beauty of broken things........

The sky deepens in shimmering colors of gold and burgundy.
Reflected on the water, the colors look like pieces of broken glass.
And I am reminded again of the beauty of broken things.

So much is broken,
But there is grace and beauty in broken things.

A bird circles slowly above,
One small wing bent down and under,
Unable to stretch into the wind and catch the swirl
Of the warm currents.

She is like an old woman making her way down a long hall
Legs unable to respond to the whispering command, "Go".
She weaves and falters and weaves again,
A dance no longer controlled.

And so the bird dances.
Around and around she goes
Unable to turn sharp or dive.
But the circles she carves are graceful,
Touching,
Simple and right
As though the hand of God himself is painting her path.

She cannot fly like before.
But neither can she stop trying.
She flies above the colors of broken glass
In the early morning light

And I see the beauty of broken things.