oh to be like the birds
soaring above my eyes
unable to fathom their distances.
the way they speak to the moonlight
dovetail in the glow of sun
they are free.
sweet freedom is something i dream of
and feel so far away from.
how can we believe we are free
our livelihoods are dictated by social expectation?
there is no place to basque under sun rays
until the clouds cover
and turn cold.
no place to save your iced tea
beside a lamp in your front lawn
to circulate air
until the pigeons stop playing.
no fountain the hummingbird could drink from
in blissful pace
no restful place to watch them take
dives in and out of fancy.
freedom is an understated religion
where sanctity blesses the skin of my being
enclosing me in days of tantric eye feasts.
breath unending in its sweetness
grace of truest life.