The Zen Bird

Wishing I could fly 

Not with feathers 

Not with wings 

But the spirit sort 

     Of bird 

It rises from the ashes of 

The mundane 

Of the everyday 

It soars 

It banks 

And sings 

It leaves behind 

All petty things 

It knows the way 

     To go 

The spirit bird requires 

Some attention 

     Now and then 

All sorts of cages 

Are made for it 

-Attempt to trap it 

     -To distract it 

I will tie 

A string around my 

     Finger 

To remember to remember 

In the midst of it all 

-All the clamoring, crying, sighing 

-All the silliness 

Of life 

The zen bird flies 

     Above it -

Now I need to 

Hitch a ride