Yours is not a caged minor bird
That has forgotten how to fly
Who has not wings to unfurl
Or a voice to sing harks of warm air
Even on winter mornings

Glide the up-draft and all it’s edges
Where you said you’d fallen from
And where I could see my footprints
Lost in the distance
Far below

I have no fear of falling.
Dive bomb the rocks below
or take faith in the air beneath -
Flap and talk of leaving someday
Ready a perch in wanton relief
and take what you’re given

I am not a bird
I have forgotten how to sing sweetly
Others make noise
Blissfully unawares
of the harmonium which awaits

As a sound or a note overheard,
captured on the ear.
Without knowing the scale
Or the instrument
But the sounds or an urban minor bird

You are in essence
as effortless
as air Itself