this struggle to capture
and release a bird’s whirling
quest of winged dreams
keeps me from sleep
true flight eludes feet
wedged in clay
a flash of black and white
twirled in a heartbeat
an instant suspended against
viridian green is all I have to
cling to – magic’s immaculate
lack aches in empty space
I cannot make sense of
fragility glimpsed briefly
with no clear reason
sustaining its fate
I am lost
to explain
© 1 June 2009, I. D. Carswell
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