A beautiful poem by one of my favorite poets, Edna St. Vincent Millay. I'll be posting more of Millay's poems in the coming weeks.

Falconry Book of Frederick II 1240's. Public Domain.

On Thought in Harness

 
My falcon to my wrist
Returns
From no high air.
I sent her toward the sun that burns
Above the mist;
But she has not been there. 

Her talons are not cold; her beak
Is closed upon no wonder;
Her head stinks of its hood, her feathers reek
Of me, that quake at the thunder. 

Degraded bird, I give you back your eyes forever, ascend now whither you are tossed;
Forsake this wrist, forsake this rhyme;
Soar, eat ether, see what has never been seen; depart, be lost,
But climb.