(from the biking philosophers’ notebook)

I wouldn’t want a tame bird,
she said. Wild birds
have so much life. They don’t
need our bread

Still, a wild bird
could take you somewhere,
in the trill of song,
the dip and dart of wing

You could have a relationship
with the badlands. They could
take your breath away
in the way they pull the light
like it was a silk scarf
or a skein of time
stretched and altered,
rendered otherworldly

You could find a related essence
in a baby’s smile, in the flash
of that moment where you shared
a recognition of each other’s souls,
your unplumbed depth,
or a mutual acceptance
that lets you both stay wild
in some elemental way,
elixir of living,
life breath of day.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 1, 2020