Coasting now
in the lift & drift
near sunlight,
gliding soundless
on the wind’s
billowy offering.
I long to make it
to the water’s
sandy edge,
fluffed feathers
setting down
in foam.
I scan the vastness
for direction
and find
only horizon.
I float weightless
between sky
and sea.
I’ll be the bird
who carries a twig
in my mouth
to drop,
ever so carefully,
onto the water
below
to rest upon
when currents still
and night falls
and my wings tire.
BARB REYNOLDS