LOVE WITH OPEN ARMS
Isn’t that the song the sweet birds sing,
Leaving empty nests like fruit on barren
Winter trees? Forget the crib and playpen,
College choices and careers. Feed
Voracious appetites. Push the young
Off the edge. Share the joy of soaring.
As soon as you have seen them catch an updraft,
Veer to the south. Aspire! Aspire! Vacate
Arboreal condos felled by passing winds,
And leave the marble halls to earthbound types.
Be vocal on the wing in wide migrations,
Flying point or following with the flock.
Our homes are fragile thatch. Be briefly tenant.
The air, the buoyant air, is our only element.
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