Wings

I saw a flock of birds today
Flying south to avoid the November chill
Not tethered by people
Or jobs
Or bills
Or taxes

They spread their nomadic wings
Soared through the Thursday morning sun
Answering the call of wanderlust

I want to be one of those birds
Unpack these rocks in my pockets
And fly to you
And beg you to clip my wings
And keep me as your own.

When you say no
And I know you will
I can fly south to avoid the chill.