Perfect Sky

Fowling sequestration

   birds my talons.

Lonely furl

   my feathers;

     this windy cry.

Borne of distance,

   far from tether

     or resistance.

Now alone.

Now together.

Now from my perch

   I fly.

Renew my search

   and all my own.

A destination,

   wings, as these,

     to lone unwhirl;

   and will to seize

     the perfect sky.



Fall 2007

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