Sky
March 8 2023
The bird
flying furiously into the wind
is held by it,
pinned against the sky
in a way that defies
the physics of common sense;
forget gravity,
forget an object in motion
that doesn't move.
There must be a Zen koan for this;
perhaps
a bird, freed of its cage
is still held by the sky,
not able to fly
high enough
to reach its end.
And when I looked up
after the wind had died
it was no longer there.
Like a star, fixed in the firmament,
gone
as dawn begins to break
and the sky reappears.
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