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Like everyone.
I am no one.

A pedestrian.
A plebe,
A half-grown seed.

A wild bird,
Calling out to the wind.

A spectacle,
A faceless,
Freak of nature,
A lunatic,
With imagination.

A voice without sound,
Form without fit,
Fingered fire,
For the deaf,
And the blind.

Like Spring,
In the midst,
Of Winter,
A matter of hope,
For the naked,
And the dead.

Perched on the edge,
The Herd having,
Gone its own way,
A friend,
A comrade,
A warm smile,
A cover,
For the cold.

A wild bird,
Calling out to the wind.

G. Doug Soderstrom, Ph.D.

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The following comments are for "Like A Wild Bird"
by dougsoderstrom

read this
as a stripping down, each stanza a successive shedding of a layer of the soul until only the wild bird remains... reads like poet-self finding and keeping only what is essential and necessary in order to move on and travel light… very nicely done…

the language is clear and stark and concise, befitting a poem of “process”. enjoyed this… been a long time. good to read you again.

( Posted by: AuldMiseryGuts [Member] On: July 10, 2008 )

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