This Thing About Wings
There’s something about wings
that makes me wish I had them.
Defying gravity to feel the sky
without having to carry passengers
complaining about the view
is a bit of magic I’d like to own.
Oh, the pleasure of being a bird to drop
an exclamation point on a gossipy neighbor
who muddies the Zen of a sunny Tuesday
would be a mulberry mission of delight.
If a wish was a feather, I’d wish to be a robin.
I could arrive to announce winter has been
shown the door and gray landscape must
surrender to the reign of wildflowers.
Wait! Perhaps I should wish to be a crow,
silence my introvert, join a flock, be inquisitive,
problem solve with a wink of mischievous,
write my opinions in feather quills and inky throat.
Yes, there’s something, endless somethings
about wings that has me yearning to not feel
the weight of finding my way through
the hypercritical maze of selfish humans.
©Susie Clevenger 2021