the sky was blue
birds that looked like
strokes of black ink
painted their way through the air,
the golden sun glinting off of their inky brushstroke wings
proud and defiant
like a person who knows their mind
i laid on the deck, face-up
camera in hand
trying to capture
these fleeting beings of freedom
only for the paint to drip too fast
ending up blurred in the lens,
but those golden glints,
snapped and stored away forever