Imaginary Sunday"

What birds feel in flight
Soaring on wings
Outstretched wings that reach
Wind currents caught effortlessly
In observance of that which is below
A view that must be in proportion
An oddity of sorts for them
Visions of people
As they sit on a steeple
But it is only in their mind
They are still in flight
Dreaming birds who fly
Flying into their dreams
Over vast distances
Skies overcasted
Drenching rainfall into dried up streams
There are always clouds above them
Observing that which is below
Unbeknownst to the aviary
Clouds pure white like snow
Sound rolls off their backs
Over their wings
Into their dreams
I am a bird who sits on a steeple
But it is only within my own mind
Upon the waves of air


~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved