Monday, October 30, 2006

Migration

Destined to fly and not just anywhere

She runs out on this cold dark night

Taken the path not learned

Not through the tunnels or the dirt roads

But marking the sky where children learn

That people can fly and not just airplanes

It’s a cold crisp night the joggers breath

Breads new light in the charcoal lungs

Of the city dweller

If I miss your line I will have missed your might

Not something you forget

Winter boots, mittens and a tuque

Do you all come back?

It must be such a finale the beginning of new

To take to the free and never question why

Continents were once this way and now we have lost our map

What happens when you fly straight in a circle and I in a box

© S.I. Shaw

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