It had fallen from the tree during the snow, and I picked it up off of the grass and took it home.

It is useless now, nothing but some twigs in the shape of a bowl.



I have wished to be able to fly,

as I watched birds’ hollow bones rise into air.

I have envied wings, wishing to extend my own


letting the air rush beneath me, lifting me up and up

until I am frozen in the gray sky

until the world beneath me seems as a blur,

and I am alone with nothing but the wind

to keep me afloat on a sea of clouds.

I have wished this so much that I think it might come true,

forgetting that my feet stand firmly on the ground

and the breeze can do no more than rustle my hair.

(Photo by Dillon.)

flight 2

taking off: I can barely breathe or think

as the world goes spinning by, my eyes

hardly seeing anything but color:

must life go so fast?

and yet, for a moment, I am frozen

think: I am happy. scared, but happy.

(photo by Dillon)