It matters to some
that they fly.
it matters not at all
to me anymore.
I can still raise a wind below me
and rise now and then…
but long flights
are for others.
I watch them from the ground.
I think of my own migrations,
am glad of the memories…
glad to be on the hard earth
thinking of rest. It’s time
to let my wings fall to my sides.
It’s time.
Blogged with the Flock Browser
Dark Matter 
January 12th, 2010 at 4:01 pm
Just because one gives up flying
doesn’t mean one can’t
still
soar.
🙂
January 12th, 2010 at 4:29 pm
Truth. But as the poet said…as long as flying and soaring happen, it matters not to the Spirit who does it. Maybe some of us are just here to facilitate the soaring of others, and it matters less whether we fly ourselves.
January 12th, 2010 at 3:12 pm
great poem.
January 12th, 2010 at 3:21 pm
Thanks.