Milestones

Plastic stuck to my fingertips

& not a way to hear.

Not blinded, not senseless, just unfeeling

Just so.


A warm, drawn breath, though

no payload of oxygen.

No yield in the lungs, of the sky.


Just empty fields.


Birdly, winged skies

hooked and spied through a thousand foot lens.

A mildly exhausting feat,

to fly.


A broken path, of twisted stones

leads to no where, uncertain

I listen to the milestone

it shows me where to go.