March 26th, 2018 by Magdalena Tabor


Image result for red winged blackbird


I held the fluttering heart

Of Spring

Cupped within both hands,

And sought to let

This winged thing

Soar past the touch of man.

But it stayed,

Its broken song

Stuttered in the wind.

Not of the earth

Did it belong

But to Heaven’s din.

Angels held

The closing door

As it stumbled in-between,

Had I only asked

For more

Than to wish upon a dream.


Crows Call

March 7th, 2018 by Magdalena Tabor

Image result for snow falling through window

Crows call

Through the fast-falling snow,

Both filling the void

In equal measure.

How good it is to watch and listen

To nothing

But the stirrings of the soul,

To spend the time actively searching

For nothing in particular,

And finding the all-important

In idle restlessness.


Crows call.

And faster forms the ghostly plumage

Of my shortcomings

In drifts and drafts,

A profusion of the nonsensical

In answer to my bucket list

Left lying to itself.