Interwoven Wings Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Let interwoven
rising hills
dance when planes
fly with kite
wings tilting to angles

shooting out
bulging eyes
to the narrow strip
of a landing world.

Let fern and jade
and shamrock woven
trees brush
air's cream ceiling,

leaving a narrow space
for the sneaking
drone hand-steered

to fly in chameleon
feathers
and land,
a bright silver,

on the stretching
strip
of a palmate leaf

perched on a tree
sticking out a branch
high up a trunk

shot to pierce sky
for feathers
building a nest

for a hummingbird
with no other home.

(ii)

Let the hummingbird
in mid-air
spin winged
wheels in helices

in a hibiscus' face
to stick its nib
of a beak
to draw nectar
from the flower's nipple.

Let it grow
into the twinkling
star flipping out
wings to catch a drone
for the fugitive

paddling a canoe
in a drifting
watershed,
the sea racing down
a gentle stretch.

(iii)

When stars of earth
interweave
gossamer fibers of air

to pull down
sky's stars
to hidden
juniper corners
of jungles,

the fleeing fugitive
runs out of space,

driven to an airport's
runway free for all.

(iv)

When an aircraft
takes off
behind the star

of a chopper
flipping out
flashed light
for the hummingbird,

tall trees and hills
grow into dwarfs,
but jive and swing
and twist,

leaving
still frozen earth
to land again
on its wheels,

interwoven hills
rising
with wings,

as clouds clear off
and trees shed leaves
whistling

at the fugitive
weaving himself
into creeks,

his only companion
a crab gripping
the loose earth tight,

stars of sky
and a drifting earth
interweaving
themselves into sun

with only wings
of light drifting
into a lone
star of thought.