nor I so low
that I don't instinctively know
how it would be to fly
through gaps that the wind makes, when
the leaves arouse
and there is a lifting of boughs
that settle and lift again.
Whatever my kind may be,
it is not absurd
to confuse myself with a bird
for the space of a reverie:
My species never flew,
but somehow I know
it is something that long ago
I almost adapted to.
Richard Wilbur
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