It's Still Life

Wing and Tail Feathers

It’s a flying dream,
across blue stained sky,
into a womb of clouds.

Wind, full on my face.
I glimpse earthly contours
swayed as an old mare’s back.

The wind jumps
as I punch through the air.
I am wing and tail feathers.

… ne ultra crepidam …

I am no hawk.
I am no kite.
Nevertheless, I am flying.