Free to fly above the trees.
I ride the wind and soar.
Beyond the tall grass,
that’s where I lie in wait.
Taking time to gather thoughts,
in numbers full enough
to let me touch the realm of never more;
or if I’m lucky to touch the air of ever more.
But in the end I sputter,
running out of thoughts anew;
and so I fall back again into the tall grass.
For I am just a distant spot,
upon a turning far flung sphere.