At the end of overgrown paths

I halt,

Close to the route, where

Voices tether loose loops

To my ears, sliding free

As invisible bodies march

Another few feet.

Soon, I am hid at a vantage

Well above, as branches, as birds -

Solitary, aware of limits

Shoulders to fingers

More ground than sky

Tethered in a harsher way

Yearning and still.