Greener Grass

The shade
blesses the blocked sun
for making it so.

All the great white
knows of flying
is that it is beyond its reach
and yet looks
so much like its own swimming 
that on occasion,
it will dare to break surface
and make an attempt.

I am always
longing to be 
what I’m not, though I know
what I’m not
is nothing I’d be happy 
being:

the rock in the shoe
that defines comfort.
The misery
that sweetens living.
The lens that makes the grass
greener
over there.