The Plan

I suppose that you are made of stealth pilot stuff
You see me as commanding from strong eagle wing
I’ll prove how your heart is stronger for its freefall
You affirm my pain-filled flight has not stolen hope


Everything. The shiny,
The hot, the wishing for warmth
And that pilot’s still circling

Not caring for landing field light 
Or the heat of home afterall 
But circling 

Higher and away
As if captaining a star flight
Upon which I can only draft 

Watching Them

Red-blooded bird
Black mask stealing
Her olive heart

Full speed ahead
Swift wings chasing
Strong wings

Her tangerine mouth
Mocks that lovely feathered cone
Atop that busy head

She forages below
What does she know
He thinks