when the wind changes
I'll be out on the sea
treading the slick ice path,
almost feeling

like I can fly, a gull
screeching over the still-life waves
where the horizon bends

the new wind nudges
and beckons me onward:

just a little push
and I'm speeding
into my future
on the wings of this gale.

Sara Norja

If you have any comments on this poem,  Sara Norja would be pleased to hear them.