Writing My Sky
With the pity of seagulls this human rock flew a puppet’s journey where mist swallows marsh. In the birdsong of capture I felt gravity’s war with sky. Through palms clutching air the wind read my fortune… Your wings are feathers of ink. If you wish to soar the heavens, don’t build a cage with empty pages. ©Susie Clevenger 2020 Sunday Muse #89