Flight Imagined

Updated: Dec 5, 2020

The imagined state remains unrealized,

feeling left unfelt,

though approached in hope, in force.


In lone being I absorb a loveliness allowed myself,

sought in otherness,

yet found, unsought, in solitude.


The itch to share it may be a lofty bird,

overhead, circling,

and I below with faulty aim

might rather sleep,

ashamed,

and wake to find it perched on me,

scratching,

an alarming crow,

instead of the dove I thought it to be.


Or perhaps its flight remains,

uninterrupted by my seeking,

and my itch, unscratched, dissipates,

dissolves into the joy of birdwatching.