don’t you remember
what it was like to swim
the air,
float on open sky, alight
on branches and sing
your wild heart out

to dwell at night
in the shadow of parent wings,
the honey warmth of feather’s

somewhere you began to give away
the shelter, your song for seed,
lost your line of sight,
stumbled along ground,
searching cover
still wet and

you longed for home
as the fowler longed for you,
sought to snatch you up
in nets, pluck flight from
your naked body,
the still beating chirrup
from your throat

you forgot for a while,
didn’t you, love,
that home is refuge and shield and

that the fowler’s snares lie,
that a cage’s bars can hem in,
but never
hold you,
surely can’t tell you
what feathered being you are

perhaps you’re young and old enough now
to remember
the shadow of those honeyed wings
and the One who still soars most high —
who gives flight for liberty and
for song


In the mood for poetry this morning? Check out some more poetic offerings here. Have a wonderful weekend, friends. I am grateful for you.

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