…a bird without flight is no bird at all…
these words
these birds
sing my story
before it’s even lived
cavorting canaries
flocking headlong
into my future
impatient, decisive
they flirt and zing
across the calendar
goodbye January blues
so long February love songs
rat a tat, rat a tat tat
to the marching
bands of spring
word on paper
wing on sky
they rush and hush
and flush away
the ambiguous grey
of slow-moving
nonchalant
mediocre days
their gracing arc
their lilting dart
shames the feeble hunch
the sorry slouch
of shoulder over a desk
the dragging down
of me
fly far with faith
their feathers write
climb from your coal mine
unencumbered
and flap your arms
in belief
soar 47 times
around the sun
at least
hear our rustle
our flutter
the swishing sweet
secrets
of your own symphony
saffronsound 