Fear of Flying

	The first cold wind of winter blows.
	A sudden fear possesses me.
	I shudder as a cancer grows
	inside my mind's uncertainty

	for like dead leaves I long to be
	in flight along the breeze's track
	instead of clinging to the tree
	and turning slow from green to black.

	If only I could leave the pack
	and ride the currents of the storm
	to reach a small uncluttered shack,
	to huddle carefree in the warm

	sweet light that is the first to form
	from charcoal kindled by my sighs
	so high above the common swarm.
	A single ember signifies

	my life and as it fades and dies
	I steel myself to face the day.
	I brush the ashes from my eyes.
	My tears now gone, I turn away.

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Leaves against a blue sky

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