The Falcon
Poetry
Published in
Mar 3, 2021
It chokes me
so that I cannot breathe—
this longing for open sky and joyous wings.
It rises,
flows into my words—
a gurgle here,
a trickle there.
Soon,
a lake surrounds me,
cool and clear.
And in its depths,
mirror of my desire,
a falcon flies,
wingtips brushing the sun.