Wings into Glass: The Yellow Warbler, Part II

Please don’t mourn or pity my brief hold

on this earth, like something frail or fine.

When I’m buried, say this life of mine

was more than striking glass and falling gold.

My home was at the edges of the sky

where time was as carefree as a breeze.

And I became the envy of the trees, when

I mastered the ineffable: to fly.

Be glad for me—I didn’t need to fight

cruelty in order to be free.

Unlike you, ruled by geography,

I broke the bounds of freedom on first flight.

And when I aimed for daylight in the glass,

I left the weight of earth beyond the past.

The Warbler: Part I