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By Tina Barbusci May 20, 2021

Golden Silk Bird

The thread is a brilliant red

Coiled at hand yet often misled

By the golden silk bird

Swaying above the moonlit

Tulip beds.


Ever turning, like a revolver’s cylinder,

The breeze directs a waltz among the stars.

A snap, a gasp, a minstrel gone rogue,

Dipping their toes before taking a long soak

A golden streak weaving through the darkness.


Plunging into the veil of eternity,

Thread forever soaring yet coil in hand,

The revolver briefly pauses

Before welcoming the dawn.


The photograph entitled “kites at night” by Stephen Hill  is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.

About the author

Tina Barbusci is a 2nd year student in Liberal Arts. 

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