not today but
some day, let it come
without warning,
say, as I walk
a sweetly shaded path,
coming to the first
of several gentle
packed-earth steps
placed by thoughtful
hands

and let the path
be bordered in late
spring green verging
on summer gold
under the most
ordinary of trees,
which, of course,
only appear
ordinary

and let ocean
sounds waft up
the path,
the lifeblood
of sea meeting
rock on which
generations of
sleek black birds
have courted
and nested and
raised young

and out there
over the deep blue
let a small
contingent of
pelicans dip
and glide

allowing me
to fledge

—you were born
with wings—

and at last
take flight,

joining them
in their journey
into mystery