a piece of me
is always flying


out of focus by default

feathered in darkness

made invisible by midnight

reaching higher


a silhouette

formed by stars

and expectation

spinning tumbling diving

straight for the heart

of a nest

made from twig and

woven promises


always landing

skewed and off center

grasping finger and foothold

holding on letting go






6 Responses to “a piece of me
is always flying”

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