“way up there,” that bird…my poem

bucket list?

I’ve never been to the top-most twig,

it’s not on my list,

I know that’s true.

I saw her,

swaying as the tree tops

let the breezes do their thing,

otherwise she did not move.

I envied her pacific view,

and briefly wondered

what she cares to see,

when all around her does not hide,

when down means not too far,

when far away is not that far

for wings that wait to spread…

I guess she’s seen it all

ten thousand times,

I guess she might glance

for a moment at me,

and murmur “you wouldn’t believe…”

I think I might,

but I’m content

to let her be alone,

to be that high.

April 8, 2024

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Your comments are welcome—tell me what you’re thinking.

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