The tops of clouds,
cotton kingdom white.
The sun lights their alabaster peaks.
Here, I feel like a cherub of heaven.
Arial tin can, hurls through the mist,
rumble of turbulence quake,
like a tremor, isolated in the sky.
Beautiful flight, impervious to earthly sorrow.
Outside the window, a cold comfort
made of moisture.
The outstretched reach of the earth-
Even above it, I still am not free.
For even down upon the earth,
I am alone.
YOU ARE READING
Birds in Glass Castles
PoetryMy collection of poems through the last few years in some of their rawest forms; more steppingstones of my journey as a writer.
