Open Wings

Had I been born a bird then I would fly to some far off place
without the sound of men and machines and traffic
and all the cares and worries they carry with them
I would fly to some mountain top surrounded
by heavy forest and drinking in the silence
I would want for nothing at all ever again
and meditate like Zen monks at dawn
and sing as the sun rose up to
make the day of night
and drink the dew
upon the blades
of grass and
no one
would know
I was there without
a care I would circle
about in the sky like a
Meadow Lark and carry
on silent conversations with clouds
that’s what I would do if I were a little bird
and I’d make a nest of feather down and pussy
willow buds and welcome in the spring with open wings

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