birds

startled in their flight, birds bedecked like jewels swing down,

a sheet of life, bone hollow, clear-eyed, and without guile,

to rendezvous with home’s terrestrial sea,

and finding footing, though less magical than winging,

a chance worth taking for bounty, seeds, and insect harvest,

all the while attuned to inner celebrations.

and there! they lift as one, the body holy, lyrical, of many parts

fitted seamless, mechanized, free-formed of beauty,

as of a rushing wind, once more a’sky and free,

inebriates of air, unbound by gravity.

-Ramey Channell