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.