Wings

At sunrise
mist clings
to milkweed,
a stirring of bright
yellow feathers
spreading
in currents
like brush fire
smoke.

The early bird flies
without effort
in an ocean
of sky,
in its mind
it forgets
or it’s
conscience
is weightless.

Wind
lights a pathway,
a wave in a field
running slow
to a river,
ripples
where deer
quench their thirst
until sunset.