03/22/20 NL
If you couldn’t fly
what would be the effort of looking up,
but for that subtle longing
a bird gets
when it dips its beak into the sea,
reminded of the forces of others,
of tides,
of the waves,
object
permanence,
reemerging with something chewy
and sweet
in that bird kind of way,
and carried back to the wind
to the possibilities of dreaming safely
in the hands of the unreachable.
Look up,
look down,
its’s all the same –
a swipe of the heart,
and a return home