one of many crests

Thoughts on Wings

There seems to be

something

comforting

about wings

like a cape

concealing the air of some foreign dimension.

I mean Big Wings,

as big as sprawling emptiness,

wings that dont just ride the breeze but create it for the

rest of the world’s population of gliders.

Even when wings are black as horns

they are still comforting,

they just seem closer.

*******

I remember a time when I had wings like those,

and a tricky little man would crawl

into the cave I had created

with my large ash colored wings.

He began with a few words,

to scrape symbols into the earth

and I recognized them from a dream I had

in the future.

I deemed him worthy of the power of my wings.