Heaven is not a place on earth
But It is here;
here in these clouds,
Sailing and soaring at the whim of the wind
Amongst the dust and droplets of water.

Some days I dream and
I look toward the deep blue above;
Toward space and I see
Those human built birds,
Lines of cotton trailing in their wakes
A vapour drawn track I wish to fly

I dream of travelling to where they travel
To distant shores and ancient monuments
To hear the Arias sung and poems said,
To expand the horizon
Of my scavenged cuisine
And my repertoire of dissonant song.

I dream of visiting a star or a planet,
a satellite or a moon, Icarus to the galaxy
Looking down onto this broken earth
or into the past when we birds ruled the roost
The ornitho-empire of the sky
The winged fingers of pre history

Still and all……
dreaming’s for the birds
I must set my course
I must do my life’s work
I am the chippy kleptomaniac
I am the raucous disturber of your seaside sleep
I must stripe your cars with guano
And call out my own soliloquy of love.