Yes, you do not learn to write free verse
if you are used to bars, always have been -
curfews, quiet, composed, dinned rhyme words.
Freedom has rarely been dressed as a bird
in hand or bush; gnawing skies; even perched.
Annelids do not know a horizon.
The earth is scored with concentric rings
and the sky’s a terrace in azure.
The threshold’s swept, hair braided and pinned,
your fire’s just made for loving and giving
and freedom’s a crow with blackmangled wingswhich hops away, and won’t come near.
Relieved to be back in usual verse mode, whew! This poem happened to waft into my brain, and I am putting it up here, though as with V-Day, it's Women's Day every single day, and Men's, as far as I am concerned. Happy humanity week to you!