Throughout sixteen seasons,
I merely looked out of
the five bay windows of my
brick walled birdcage, at
shadows of Elm trees
dancing along either
side of the street.

I was only
a lonely observer.

But late one night, deep
in the heart of the fifth
summer, I sensed an
odd strength surging
through
my weakened wings.

I quietly opened the
door of my cage, glided
down the driveway, and
onto the street below,
enticed by warm, blustery,
and liberating midnight
winds, under the strange
glow of moonlight through

translucent,
sunbaked,
and
cracked
clay
clouds.

I no longer just longingly
admired the view of the
dancing shadows on the
street through a window;
I actually felt the shadows
of those living branches
and leaves dance with
my shadow, and felt them
caress my bare arms, legs,
mind and spirit,

as I did a
low test flight with
them for
only about twenty feet
over and along the
back street below.

I longed to continue
my solo night flight,
like a bird through
the midnight air, in
currents of streets
and hundreds of miles
of highway, where my
baby and I, like two
newly
freed birds could fly
across the

Sea
of
Change
and
of
Destiny,

where we could at last
be truly free in our
hearts and in our minds.

But like a well-trained
domesticated bird,
I reluctantly returned
to the large cage of my
mind, where I continue
to dream of being free --

my
gentle
companion
and
me.