Rearranged from Mr. Mastadon Farm

[kjackson]

Birds fall from the window ledge above mine
then they flap their wings
at the last second.
I can see their dead weight just dropping
like stones (or small loaves of bread)
past my window all the time.

BUT: unless I get up
and walk across the room
and peer down below,
I don't see their last-second
curves toward a horizontal flight...

Now, due to a construct in my mind
that makes their falling
(and their flight) symbolic
of my entire existence,
it becomes important for me to
get up
and see
their last second
curves toward flight.
It's almost as if my life will fall
unless I see their ascent.

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