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by Mary Brunini McArdle

Those of us who lack
The benefit of wings
Can only contemplate
The route you travel.

The Earth is yours to circle;
Those magnets in your heads
Will guide you
To your rightful destination.

For us, so firmly planted,
But allowed to fix
Our eyes upon the sky,

What does it matter
Where the birds are going?

Copyright © 2013 by Mary Brunini McArdle

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