Here on this nested earth as
I watch the clouds roll by.
I hear the winds whisper its evil schemes,
to where evasion wasn't just a distant dream.
As the breeze rouses my lighted feathers
and caresses my tender bare skin,
stir is within---an euphoria perhaps,
of a plausible flight conjured.
Think naught, oh despair,
clipped were the wings,
as were the days and days
of my endless seek and desperation.
Is this it?
Is this the stale smell of freedom,
bearing its last goodbye.
Oh goodbye.
Written, 5 January 2012