Pinioned

William’s wings. Photo, of course, belongs to me.

I told my dear friend Susan I might be done with writing poems. I love words, but maybe I’m finished with the crafting and then just now, the word pinion made me weep, I don’t know why. One word, a deep reservoir of feeling. My swans, their wings, the freedom we take for granted. Grateful to have everything I need. To soar, and return home, safe and loved. Grateful to be me.

LBM 12–7–2020