there is a lift in my lungs
it threads recognition
when I watch gulls wing
and wonder if they see the currents
as I see colours

does a feather measure
the drift and decide
to catch a ribbon of green
to hover on a patch of blue
or surge with a bright swath
yellow like a ray of rising sun

all this movement
innate and unmapped
is the complexity of the ways
that lay between you and I
rainbows with no way on
and no way off