Sometimes my head floats away
into swirls of gray clouds and big dreams
as I sling these blue words onto paper
and I calm down the thunderous things
I'll speak to you like we're both feathers
and we're trapped here beneath these old wings
of a dove who's lost all navigation
She's been crashing headfirst into things...
She was lost in the barn for 6 Wednesdays
and she never did notice the light
She was nestled beneath the old tractor
afraid of the sounds in the night...
But the barn owl was wise and he told her
to stretch out her wings and look up
and see that the barn had no roof there
in the corner above the tin cups
So now we're not trapped but we're falling
more quickly than we can defend
And this freedom to rise above rooftops
might break us before we can bend.
