As the evening sun goes down
wild geese fly above the town,
a circling pattern in grey skies
with creaking wings and hooping cries.
As the darkening hour grows late
I feel that I could levitate

”Be careful there.
Don’t challenge fate.
Icarus made that dread mistake.
Hubris led him to a fall
and you may never rise at all.
Optimism is a clown ~
you may circle round the town
but then it all comes crashing down”

You are wrong.
As the evening hour grows late
I will rise, against my fate.
I hear a deep internal song.
The sun goes down, my spirits rise.
The sky is where I most belong