Heron by Katie Fortune
Here I sit.
Minutes tiptoe by,
then sprint out of my hands.
Fed up of all these heavy tasks,
I am chained to my chair.
The outside seems so close from my window,
yet so far away.
Far enough for me to wonder
Why I remain seated.
These chains have links, and in the end
These links will lead me farther
than I could ever dream.
I remain, still stuck.
And in a flash he rises,
Swooping past my window,
through the bruised sky.
The fleeting glimpse of flight,
Of his worries as light as paper,
Which contrasts the evening skies.
and try to chase him to another window,
to catch another fleeting glimpse
But he is gone.
And I have risen.