IN FLIGHT
by Jennifer K. Sweeney

The Himalayan legend says
there are beautiful white birds
that live completely in flight.
They are born in the air,

must learn to fly before falling
and die also in their flying.

Click here to read the rest of In Flight.

I remember flight,
Rush of cold air,
Banking, turning,
Pulsing with life.

I was a bird,
Gliding on thermals,
Spreading my wings,
Lighter than air.

I remember falling,
Disconnected, unsure,
Turning and spinning,
Landing too soon.

Now I dream:
I fly, rising, soaring,
Lingering in trees,
Connected and warm.

Copyright 2015 Brenda Davis Harsham

Note: This feather is from a blue jay, and it was 6-7 inches long. Welcome to a new Poetry Friday, this week hosted by Elementary Dear Reader.