I pity the grass anchored to the ground,
Watch it reach for the sky, wild with its need,
We are no different, rooted, earthbound,
The wind pulls at dreams, awakens my greed
for wings that life so often supersedes.
Then I follow the path of a small kite,
Worries leave their nest, thoughts choose to take flight,
Gone is the sigh that was buried too deep,
My hand clutches a string, my heart feels light,
Joy joins my nylon bird though dark clouds creep.
*Dedicated to Nette Onclaud whose poetry is always fresh, never staid. Her words have wings and are not held to convention. Reading her verse is a true education in poetry.