The Song by Dee Martin

I heard a whip-poor-will this morning
singing outside my window
and wanting to join the chorus
I stepped outside in the still dark
and found myself on a strong branch
felt the roughened bark
against bare feet
spreading powerful wings
I took to sky and joined
morning dance
we wheeled a pattern clear
then came together circling
round and round

"Whip-poor-will or common nighthawk?" (photo by Flickr user Ric McArthur)

in that exquisite moment
I knew I was exactly
what I was supposed to be
a sense of deep knowing
welling up inside needing
wanting to tell the world
opening my throat
to let the joy escape
but a whip-poor-will can only sing
the song she has been given


Dee Martin has held jobs in manufacturing plants, a mental institution, and a bra factory. She has been married for 30 years, raised two great kids, and presently works as technology contact in a high school. In her heart of hearts she is, and will always be, a writer. You are welcome to stop by her blog and have a latté anytime at delenemartin.com.

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