By Harper McIntyre, TIWP Student

A globe of gunmetal mesh;
That encapsulates the beautiful.
If that crown was not laid over these flightful creatures
We would probably never see them again.

And for I exist most naturally in this museum of Seraphim,
My hands and feet
covered with my youthful wings.
I am too large to slip through this mesh
But I will open the door when I am ready.

There’s a garden in here grown just for them,
And the bees and butterflies play songs for birds.

Here I stand shy, among
Birds that can fly
But cannot soar.

The precipice of the atmosphere,
The pulpit of desire,

Right here is the only place
Where I am grateful enough to have more of a choice
Than aviary things.