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Sunday, December 20, 2020

cardinal sin.

High above 
a treetop base
soars a group of rogues
A squadron pressing 
giving chase
Hoards of lethal droves

Aerial mischief 

can’t replace 

what lies beneath our toes

We make our way 

through aerospace

Searching for a home

A pivot point

a swivel 

a universal force

Maybe it’s more civil 

to hunt ourselves for sport

We claim to be noncommittal 

still never changing course

a Renaissance of drivel

and meaningless discourse 

Ask yourself a question

you’ll offer a response 

That’s what makes us special 

how needs become wants

Despite this 

our connections with

surroundings are staunch 



tethering our launch

Turned my blunted

beak to the left

lost myself in thought

Colossal clumps 

of feathers swept 

past me like a dart

The wings they came from 

so adept

I know them like my heart 

It seems they’re mine 

from when we left

We’ve ended at our start