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Silver Bird

May 19, 2005

n.d.


Silver bird
Floating on empty air
Balancing precariously on cloud banks and jet exhaust
Flying 200-something to their “final destination”
(Wherever it may be)
Are you alive?


Do you hear my conversation in your hollowed inside?
Do you sense my nervous exhilaration at your unnatural flight?
Or my overbearing tension as you touch your wingéd body to the insubstantial ground?


Some despise your fragile beauty,
Some abhor your static flights
I revel in your journeys
I adore the dizzying heights


Do you hear my silent prayer
(Silent to a bird of steel and plastic)?
Is there a spark that burns inside you
That will someday soon release you
From your all-too-man-made shell?


So that soon you will be flying with the other living birds
In the air that you call home.




This was written many years ago while commuting from Panama, Canal Zone, to Miami, Florida. Echoes relate to the 9/11 tragedy, but I have always marveled at the basic fragility of airflight…


Sorry for the time away.  I’ll try to post more (life in the FAO has been VERY busy).

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