to realize,
when you are next to a bird of prey,
high in the witness trees,
surveying what mind journey offers.
and you come to sense
the presence of preening ongoing.
yet without actual sight of her taking place.
and somehow looking out of those, her eyes,
that register in far-sightedness with ease.
wondering what skies will offer
as the forthcoming of adventure.
worthy of travel as surveillance,
a sense of the business of silence booming.
for that to take wing,
even as script that journeys
across what mind-fills will come to say.
seeking the zest of sky-story that appears as wander,
but actually provides for acuities
that come to her mind.
revelation that travels with wings of ease,
high in these witness trees.
I have no wings for flight as such.
I dwell in nuance ways and means
for what inadvertently genders nearby.
your sky journeys may become
some of my sight memories,
yet never traveled as such.
your script may find its say to me,
as blessed beyond my means.
we were of the same heir.
yours having flight
beyond what exposure offers.
mine as the indwell of nuance expressed.
where we met,
the world was more of oneness,
than otherwise in the obvious . . .
yes
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