First appeared in Samford University’s Sojourn Magazine (Spring 2013, Vol. XIX)
The blackbird flock
has come today;
such a pesky
species of feather
to don the field
with their flutter.
Yet I feel, as
like their kin,
the flutter, no,
the thunder of wings
beckons me skyward.
Why? Do they,
the flitting cloud,
seek the gray above.
No. Tis the wrong question.
Tis better to ask:
how do they know the blue?
They yearn for it,
as we do.
So let's play the role
written for the stage of life.
I believe, with introspection,
we'll find it's the cosmonaut,
who, with baited breath,
will tickle the stars,
only to find cosmonauts
laugh with them.