THE BUZZARD

Cernunnus awakening divine discontent:
these winter blues are weighing me down
and I long to leave it all behind -
ticking clocks and concrete prisons.
Even woodland path is no longer enough.
Then gazing up into the sky,
there's a graceful figure flying high
who's calling me...

kiew...kiew...
come join me in my aerobatics:
play hide-and-seek with swirling clouds,
mind-to-mind, wing-to-hand.
Oh such freedom!
The Buzzard and the Astral Traveller
above the treetops, under the sun;
soaring, diving...it's just an intent away...
kiew...kiew...

I'm rushing at speed like a rocket,
now gliding on thermals, my body changing shape.
My home is a dot on a distant map
that means nothing now I've gone.
Heights are no longer shrouded in fear,
and my appetite is turning queer:
chocolate bars have lost appeal, yet
at the sight of a vole I salivate.
But I'm no longer sure this life's for me
and I want to be back with my own kind.
Oh I think it's too late:
my hands are feathered, my toes clawed,
and I don't know how to get down...

kiew...kiew...kiew...