Not all birds find it easy to fly.
As they struggle inelegantly
to stay afloat,
the wind is not playing fair/
not for them. Necks straining
they flap and flap and somehow
they keep going.
Spare a thought for those of us
who find life difficult,
the ungainly ones,
the ones who keep striving to just be,
like birds with bodies too big
for their wings.

On a perfect, cold, still, silver day,
they walk gingerly out their door
and reach Heaven.
Holding tight
onto their umbrellas,
they take flight.
That’s why the weather
has been a little unsettling recently,
a little unsettled.
Small, unreported miracles
are shifting the pattern
into new shapes
to the left of the light,
to the right of darkness.