Skimming upon sweetened summer waters, swift in your groundless freedoms, I see you. You scream into the ripplings of a gentle sighing breeze. Staganation and fear have never known your names, how could they. Alight pauseless wings, you shift and shed in titleless metamorphosis, before any eyes might find you. And yet. Yours may always find me, in both my naive wonderings and stilled waters. Find me. As I still pray for the day my grief lays light as a feather. A day where the tailing thunder of a mighty gale might whip me aloft into a great shapeless unknown, so I might dance with soft gallancy amongst the clouds of frightless future. Find me swiftly dear wings. Before the summer ends.