Day after day up there beating my wings
With all the softness truth requires
I feel them shrug whenever I pause:
They class my voice among tentative things,
And they credit fact, force, battering.
I dance my way toward the family of knowing,
Embracing stray error as a long-lost boy
And bringing him home with my fluttering.
Every quick feather asserts a just claim;
It bites like a saw into white pine.
I communicate right; but explain to the dean
Well, Right has a long and intricate name.
And the saying of it is a lonely thing.