Poem: Soar

At Fort Funston, south of Ocean Beach, the ravens are playing
Hovering far overhead
Surfing on the wind
Below owners walk and jubilant dogs frolic
Chasing one another and tennis balls alike
Ecstatic to be among their kin

A bird of prey takes notice of a small, furry fellow
Poking his head out of sandy soil
He chances a look around
But he's back in his hole before any calamity can take place
Moving dexterously through his burrowed tunnel in the ground

I take this all in and I can't help but wish
That I too was overhead
Riding on the wind
Laughing at gravity while my wings carry my body away
Among the ravens playing, until daylight's end