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