Lines

Lines

And in that moment,
I saw the fence not as a divider,
but lines of music,
with each bird its very own note.

Birds who would rather fly free,
sitting on the fence, gazing out at me.

One hovers above until we lock eyes,
and then away he flies.

I’m gazing at the glittering sea.
It sparkles as it sings to me
with a million sparkles a minute,
flashing out a melody.

The breeze gives me a shoulder rub,
blows my hair and gives my hat a tug.

Even a photograph couldn’t capture
the peace it sets within me.

Out here this city feels like the country.

Once I slow down,
you wouldn’t believe the freedom.

I see a runner rush past me,
and no longer do I wonder
why we can never see beauty.

Most fail to look,
as the future pulls and the past pushes.

Slow down and remember who you are.
If you are down and out,
you must look up and out.

I see the ships come out from the refinery
as the pollution soils the scenery.

It says no admittance beyond this point,
but all I see are fields of green,
so where does one get a ticket?

D.L. Lang
D.L. Lang
D.L. Lang of Vallejo, CA is the author of nine poetry collections, including 2016's Poet Loiterer which Kirkus Reviews described as containing "Free-spirited ideals couched in fairly infectious rhymes." She enjoys performing her poems at open mics and entering them in county fairs.