After the Birds

Why is my mind after the treetops
And the longed-for key to crop its peak?
 
I’d like to paint jack pines like Thompson
Then canoe on a river
Even just for a sliver
Dissolving in the air
Before I can draw a sketch
 
I’m just a man grasping at dreams
Shuffling through the clouds, randomly reaching out
When in the end there’s a strong hand
To bind or free me
No matter what I achieve
So I will release and destroy
My need for the birds