Wings

I watched a bird wobble across the road.

Right in front of my car, grave danger.

It saw the beast with the headlights and ran, ran faster.

Could not find its wings to save itself.

I wonder about my wings.

Do I suffer only because I cannot find them?

When I see the car coming

do I only run faster and faster

Instead of flying

escaping

Far above it all?

©2011 Donna Jo Wallace.