SOAR

buzzard-flying-high-online

SOAR

Oh to soar high in the bluest sky,

On a day when I can barely walk,

Buzzards shrewdly shriek their delight,

As I bumble along a frightful sight!

Back in spasm knee in flame,

A walking corpse… A waiting prey.

Oh to soar high in the bluest sky,

To wheel on thermal drafts…

And leave the mobbing crows behind.

To leave the land and never land…

Never to be be stilted and stunted by pain,

And never to take the wheel again.

Copyright Dale Beck 2018.

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