A stream of blackbirds strokes the sky:
Jade, emerald, sigh-silver smoothed into
Ripples of rolling black. Cloud-drips
Dribble from worked wings, watering the highway.
The birds pass people who pant for freedom.
Grim in their grandeur – free, fierce, fearless –
They follow the wind-road rolling to the South.
Take me there, blackbird burnished
By sun. Teach me the mastery of wind…
Sky…sea. Free me from soul-
Anesthetizing love of land. Bear
Me on you glint-glazed, sunset-swimming
Wings that skim along the wind-road.