Bad Omen

In my dreams I fly,
across clear blue skies on jet black wings.
People down below throw stones,
but they can’t throw them high enough to hit me.
I sow my feathers on the landscape.
On the patchwork fields.
On the dirty cities.
On the isolated towns.
Until I am no more than a gust of wind,
blowing across the earth.
I soar I soar,
just to wake up on the ground,
older than I was before.

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