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Selection: a-19

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In the garden all I see is delicate,
colorful, wing like: Even morning sun
has wings--gliding over rooftops, flowers,
and myself, making me feel feathery,
air like, a part of each selfless breeze
that only offers lightness
if we are willing
to leave our own weight behind....
Up I travel, high above the smoke
and rock-hard pavement of my city--
machines taking lubrication from my steel will:
Higher and higher, I take flight,
absorbing light, dissolving my shadow--
this seems important, how high I travel,
making way for light....
By Joe DiMino who retains all rights.