Wednesday, October 19, 2005
An afternoon array of colored paper
opens before us on the table.
We study the photographs:
cranes dance, necks bowed,
black and white against the forest.
Making patterns, we fold and fold again,
Lines cross the midpoint,
still precise fold on fold, symmetrical.
Let the parts of the triangle flatten,
refold in upon itself to the secret parts,
our fingers find the way,
split triangles become legs. We pull edges,
and the heads and tails emerge.
We fold down the flapping triangle,
and our birds have wings.
We puff a small breath inside the paper bird,
the cranes unfold before us,
a thousand cranes unfold.
Image from: http://magma.nationalgeographic.com/ngm/0301/feature5/zoom5.html
Tim Laman, National Geographic