Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Flight: A poem

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
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
Oange mushroom clouds in the sky

I want to be like the birds and
Leap and
slide and
Make my way
all the way up,
to the


  1. This is an old poem I wrote that your poem reminded me of:

    sea roots

    I wish to build a home where water meets land.
    to sink my roots like a great cord of beach grass
    and bend with the winds. I will dig deep into
    the sand and roof my ponderous abode with
    elemental shingle, sea-worn smooth. fiddler
    crabs will scamper topside like gentle rain, great
    waves will fall in threes, gulls will chuckle and chide,
    and the cormorant will break free of ocean’s
    grasp and flap in the joyous winds, heaven-bound.

    and when clouds roll in from sea I will be bathed
    in thick swathes of funereal cloth, and near
    dunes will recede into grayness, the thunder
    of breakers will be mute, and I will be lost
    to industries of man, alone in the earth.

    Lots of love and happy holidays,

  2. That is an amazing poem. Beautiful.

    Happy holidays!

    -Ava ☺♥♫