To Fly

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We toss our burlap robes into the fire,

with no one left to preach, gone is the choir

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so weave bold cloth with capers of the dawn,

in rosy flowing garbs we’ll carry on.

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Each seam we’ll sew with needles made of gold

and silver threads embroidered on each fold

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and then with pockets full of wind and sky

like sacred silken kites we’ll learn to fly.

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© 2015 Betty Hayes Albright

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Happy New Year!

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