Carried Away

In the stillness of the morning,

before the wheels start spinning - inside and out

the cool sea breeze

The gaviota stretches its white silver wings

How far it soars

How many flaps until the wind takes over?

Is there a magic number

of tiring strokes before it can glide

carried away into the folds - the blues - of the tender sky

I will say this because it happened to me.

One must claim the right

to fly.

- Erin Frankel