If ever the way wind wonders
Of winds wafting far away.
Still the tide that wanders
While it flows in secret.
Embrace its ebb in pat tranquility
Spending not a moment alone
Toiling over oil that burns
Scraping wood grey until it floats away.
Mirror the bluebird in all but hue
Carrying sweet sustenance as light as air,
Buoyantly gliding with nary a care,
Lofty like a lark to meet the wind.
Upon returning, he finds his nest
All kept in place despite much time.
Flying through states both near and far.
Returning he finds his place well kept.
Copyright © Gloria-Deo Agbasi Poetry
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