Sleep in the Wind

I vault the sky – blue is a trite fancy —
the expanse, the clear color of longing

The horizon gives way
to empyreal heights
and delicious air, my face
to the eye of the sun

Is it calling or indulgence to ride
the wings of one’s own prayers?

I could sleep in the wind.

I hold onto this incarnation of
dreams but the sun revives me
from slumber on a pillow of dirt
and the sweet draught of
yesterday still in my throat,

I try not to disturb my broken wing.

whitebird3

117 thoughts on “Sleep in the Wind

My Two Gold Cents in the Holistic Treasury

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