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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