Overhead & Overheard

Eagle flying in the air
all alone, always there
ever circling
what do you see on the ground
cold, dark, dank, brown
circling, ever circling

Over treetops, over farms
lying fallow – is it flight keeps you alive?
time long gone I’d lay
watching as you worked the currents
finally running in for the kill
I too rode the winds
lined up, ran in for the kill

Do you grow weary of flight
or just the kill?

Gazing out my window
into grey skies – earthbound now
the engine of my youth run down, I
think about the small yellow cub
that first bore me into the skies, when
I reached but for a moment and touched heaven

When did living to fly become
flying to live, joy turn to task
touching heaven become creating a hell

Through the window I yet
can feel the quickening pulse
how does one describe that
which is too large for the heart to hold?

No more
to strap on
sonic wings of gold
explode and scream into the sky
winter’s quiet is for gentler things
to go aloft by degrees – perhaps to
once more reach out for heaven and
slip loose of earth before they know I’m gone

Similar Posts

  • Nineteen Fifty-Two

    ‘In the city’ where music danced on the night lights we dashed store to store over snowbanks, between cars through crowds of people across the cobblestone streets trying to avoid puddles of slush – don’t slip! meet. regroup and divide. meet again outside under the Shepard clock closely guarding our Christmas secrets only the constant…

  • Strive

    Strive to live each day in little moments Noting the joy of each and let them become as small steps leading you through the darkness If you can capture one another will surely follow Sometimes we have to tell ourselves to breathe until the normal rhythms of life take over again  

  • Broken Wing

    Tiny bird inside his breast pocket you are like the young three-footed buck and squirrel laying in the rain with a broken hip Science cannot heal all should we have left you to die? Young buck once jumped with a grace man never could squirrel – laughed with a zest unmatched How does your heart…

  • The Enemy Within

    Door closed Maisie bounded from behind the sofa fresh with the scent of winter we measure the days and hours in Maisie time Locked in the moment he shrugged off a scraped and bloodied face – oblique commentary on a parallel universe Mud and grass stains are part of the game – then bundled to…

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *