Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter

Tuesday, October 18, 2005


I see them above the trees
pointed out nearby. Rare,
an occasional appearance
and I draw in a breath,
unaware of holding it
each time.

Anywhere the wind goes
hawks can glide without
boundary, lift on updrafts
and their own dreams.

What others could be had
possessing full extension
of a wingspan and knowledge
of undiluted freedom.

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