Sit among the rustling leaves.
Listen for life,
Listen for death.

You'll find that life lives among the trees
Audible by whistles.
The freedom a seagull must feel.
Favorite food: tourist's french fries.

I once heard a story about a buoy.
From Maine to Europe it
Drifted for years.
Is that freedom?

Did the current grab it's limbs like
The medieval rack and dislocate it's ability?
Buoys can't cry for help as cargo ships float by.
The salt tastes like ignorance.

How would a bird feel to be stripped of it's feathers?
Ask a magicians dove.
What is the correlation between disappearance and freedom?
Ask the buoy. You can't get 10 years back.