tethered feathers

Birds are gathering

here in these skies

like little ants


They scuttle about

leaving traces of twigs


I watch them

from one edge of the earth

and down to the next end


They whistle and chirp

minute songs

sprung out from their lungs


In a past life

I imagine we could have been

one of them


Four wings soaring

flying too high to that sun


But we weren’t

pelted with wax

we were made up of stone


Our claws carved stars

we know of no grounds

no lands or oceans


We are chiseled of air






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