From the cellar I slowly
drank the flight of birds.
I fly to celebrate, by luck
and the experience
of my arms that are off
to the side in lonely splendor.
Alone in Paris, I can think
of a thousand birds, I had been.
From pages 261-262 of The Raw and the Cooked: Adventures of a Roving Gourmand by Jim Harrison (Grove Press, 2001).