The Moebious Bird

swirling ascent, streaming, feathered, winging -- 'look at your tops, they are my bottoms,' she tweets 'n twitters, murmurs me:me surging urges in the air she soars everywhere a falling feeling -- a free-spirit flows through her wings, a sapient sixth sense for rising up to close the gap -- caresses curious circuits, twirling, swooning, reeling, drifting through heightened meaning -- she speaks in many tongues, larking on the edge of a hush with the rush of a far-cry, a longing songing sigh -- in a fluttering, floating glide, she rounds in passions now arrived, now along, swooping, looping, going, going, falling fast, now turned, re-turned, now gone