Reach For The Sky

A bunny
A giraffe
A hummingbird
These shapes kindly floating through the sky like giant kites
With rounded edges, soft and fluffy
Always shifting as they drift slowly overhead
Their stark grays and whites contrasting the pale blue sky
I reach out to them and my fingers grasp nothing
Nothing but air, like a wisp of the wind or the fleeting breath of a dying soldier
What exactly what am I reaching for?
It's not tangible; it slips through my grasp every time
Perhaps life in the dirt is better than flying high above the storms
and falling right through the clouds.