I write as a bird soars the crimson sky.
The peering eyes of my pen search for food.
They gaze upon a thought, a dream, my prey.
I swoop and, with my talons, catch the thought.
I mold and claw it ‘till I reach the meat.
My beak clutches the thought with pensive force.
I spread my feather’d wings and fly away;
The blazing flames of dreams upon my back.