Light as a Feather

shady and weightless on an August afternoon

my hair lifted aloft in the breeze

i am light as a feather 

and glittering with sweat

this is my freedom 

and i'm not through walking yet

​

when i'm all chipped polish and sunburns

when i feel my neck in a noose

the scintillating heat

and the paving stones under my feet

are my freedom

and i'm not through walking yet

​

when i'm claustrophobic and suffocating

when i'm the proverbial bird in the cage

the cicada's drone 

and the air saturated with gold

is my freedom

and i'm not through walking yet

​

the turbulent trees are sipping on tawny sunshine

grey shadows splatter on brick painted pink

and the air smells like iron

and flowers and cider

this is my freedom 

and i'm not through walking yet

​

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