Birds Of A Feather Poem by Mark Heathcote

Every flightless creature of the air
needs wings and-the-validation you get
when you soar while empathizing
with the fragility of a falling leaf
taken by the power of the wind,
the invisible ether rising to affirm
some acrobatic agility to remain afloat.

Aloft like a feather with the insight
to rise even further beyond the trauma
of this life, to take solace on high,
to be angelic as of a bird or a dove.
Every brushstroke of this beautiful being
painted and animated with love
that sense of a mother's eternal love.

That circumferences a lover's mouth,
a fledgling's nest the world, and all-
Who has made their maiden flight?
And unapologetically kissed and said
'I have authentically reached some wholeness
a well-meaning distinct good night.'
And deceptively, I did it all while being stereotyped.