ElegyThat ever-circling hawk you see is death.It never leaves your sight; is air its home?Alas, it mastered air so it may hunt.It may come down so fast and steep one day that none could see it dive, yet you are gone.Today you are too big, you are too strong.But you will shrink, you will become a mouse.Or death will grow till all your size and strength are vain, and float mere inches overhead, then take you with a twitch of its great beak.It will take all you are, or nearly all.The love you had for others and the lovethey had for you cannot be caught or heldby talon or by beak, cannot be lost.As death soars up again and
These Wings BluesYou may have these wings I'm wearing,if you teach them how to fly.You may have these wings I'm wearing,if you teach them how to fly.They feel just like two anchors,not a ticket to the sky.I think you could do this teaching,because you know the way I feel.I think you could do this teaching,because you know just how I feel.And you help me when I wonderif a good thing can be real.If you get these wings to flying, you may loan them back to me. If you get these wings to flying,you may loan them back to me. For five minutes or an hour I wo