He would look out for skeins of geese
as if their pulse of their wings might bring release
from his exile on that narrow slip of land,
Yet that longing might only last
a moment, passing swifter than their shadows,
for deep within, he could understand
That the way his heart and feet were tethered
for the likes of him was so much better
than
The shuddering of wings, the restlessness
his heart had not been fashioned
or created to withstand.