Friday, July 27, 2012

Stationary Glide

When the wind catches,
Their outstretched wings,
Birds glide,
suspended in space.
I'd guess, they laugh
to themselves
As the rush of air
Buoys them and holds them,
Propels them and frees them.

When my own breathing
A hidden edge
Of balance,
And lifts me
Muscle by muscle,
Bone by bone,
To a hold
Previously unreachable
I chuckle inwardly.
Not quite as graceful
As a gliding gull,
But hey.

No comments:

Post a Comment