Albatross

Prevailing winds run ahead of you,
and fashion daily migration statistics.

Ballast is meant to be released.

You have access to the satellite.

Listen to the global report and
enjoy global anticipation.

Look at the weather vane attached
to the roof of your linear imagination.
That aching spin pulls you away. 

“Instead of the cross, the Albatross / About my neck was hung.”
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner—Samuel Taylor Coleridge

[RK, 3/14/21]