The whispering of wings, waiting to spread
I want to be like the birds and cut a path through the sky and the earth
what has never
Existed
does now.
I want to be the sharp, ringing realization of the trees
when they see me
The scent of pine in a cold breeze.
I want to be the
Circle
Oange mushroom clouds in the sky
I want to be like the birds and
Leap and
slide and
Make my way
up,
all the way up,
to the
Top
