Above the wanderers footsteps
I soar

                                                      does he see me, can he see?
Were he to look beyond
                                                          ­          Himself
perhaps he would steal

a glance of truth

                                                reflected­ like gold upon my wings

but he shrouds himself with
thorny leaves of pine
and the shadow ridden caves of his              home
will never be neighbor to                               mine

and as the wind ruffles my feathers
                                                        ­   can he feel it?
no, not like me

with all his trekking and searching he
has not yet learned to
let life's whispering breath
                                            lift his weathered feet
                                                            ­                    to higher depth.