Bird Flight

The aching yellow of laburnum,
the yearning mauve of lilac,
the blossom fused where boughs reach and twist,
long racemes of gold, drooped panicles of purple.
I stand under the canopy, inhaling nascent scents.
A blackbird sings, a swallow flies
into the wide air and lifting wind.
our feet rooted to earth,
what do we know of freedom?


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