Flight

The trail thinned to a ribbon 

along a drop to the lake, 

Cachuma, all water and life 

and valley oak trees

and the tree 

you rose out from, 

took air 

on spear-points 

splayed to thump at the sky 

next to the path, 

banking in at the edge 

where a bridge began clapping 

under each stride I gave,

the shift of each feather

a secret whispered 

like grace without words 

to share how one finds 

their way around effort, 

at one with a breeze

I’m chasing, 

or evading anything 

that doesn’t make me

feel like this,

what 

will always 

be with me: 

this water, 

these trees,

the birds

and their flight. 

Turkey Vulture (pastel on construction paper, April 26, 2020)