From A Pigeon

Under the mantle of freedom, it soared
In staccato movements of grey.
The bold streaks of its doughty spirit,
Sailed in looping letters of white–
Visible though the fluid charts of the vault.
Its intrepid heart, touched
By the scent of the pouring rain,
Wished me the indomitable will of the rising waves.
Carried upon the flurry of feathers,
Through the beauty of the brewing storm,
It glided past me, bidding me
A hint of adventure from its valise of winds.


9 thoughts on “From A Pigeon”

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