Suggested, by a friend, who can see a unique thing, through the skill of a 'bird like' sight, that some of the feathered lot, fly far and far away ...while others come together. That, in these wings...and in these times, are friends reborn, rejoined, singing 'that same song', whispering, the angels love, and other things...bound in the feather's of forgotten tribes. So, now we fly, closer to the sun, perhaps warmer than we should...for we are long , familiar friends, of that same nest...when we were one.
Namaste
Written by Bruce James Clyde, at Deming, New Mexico
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