Thoughts on a Windy Day

The wind on recycle day
The old lady walks her dog, 

looking like Marcel Marceau 

pushing against an unseen wall.

Papers fly out of red recycle bins with ease, 

cans clatter down the street.

Old pizza boxes cling to fences,

holding tight against the breeze.

The wind, wild and fierce, 

that blows around our debris of living,

lifts the eagle into the air

on its flight into the heavens.

Like feathers falling to earth,

our lives are lifted by

the spirit 

and we cannot clutch that fence,

or stay within our red recycle box.

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