The Wind-Road

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.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s