by

Crystal D. Arbogast

A frantic and dreary morning
With thousands of mice
Running the wheel
Aimed at their destinations

I veered off the highway
A different direction
A change of heart, perhaps
Searching for something.....different

Then, I took notice
Of the hawk
Perched high in the tree
Cloaked with his freedom

And I envied the difference
Of our existence
My own, in which I am ruled
And his, where he is king