One thirty am

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cats insisted on waking her at 1:30- a bird sound ignited their curiosity

 all momma wanted was to return to her dream of flying over canyons--

gazing at acres of mid-western farms,  in the classic rectangles of green, brown, orange, yellow...

 from below her random temporary wings-- offering a  sweet tart taste
 of realized freedom--

 arteries, veins, muscle and bone, a homing pigeon steering closer to a classic vision of "welcome home"

 for all who choose to wander beyond the bordered fiction--

 a universal fellowship will always be-- our inalienable right..without a fight-

bathed in the light,
melting borders--
sea gulls fly freely

katyajo (c)'18

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