There is a tree outside my window, a green
honeycomb of twigs and leaves
Birds make it their home, dart from here
to there, and sing to each other
but not to me
Today I saw one of the birds near the
base of that tree, more still than before,
just the movement of plumage as
that gentle breeze passed through
Is that song amongst the leaves in memory of you?
I stood there and watched you, returning
slowly to the earth, and thought it sad,
that your wings could not take you
where I wanted to be
Ground to Ground 
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