The Wings of a Bird
I fly so high up in the sky
I move in moods of wing and flight
And flit from here to there
I fly on the wings of a bird
Here, there and everywhere.
And when I’m done, I catch the sun
My feathers catch the glow
And wrap the warmth around me
In ways few will ever know.
I learnt to fly and to cry
And ways to use my voice
To chirp and cheep, trill and tweet
In a language of my choice.
From tree to tree I travel
And wing and sing my way
And as I fly, I soon espy
A bug of choice to make my day.
I sit then flit and fly away
And keep my senses tuned
Like a knife there is strife
As prey I may be doomed.
I fly so high up in the sky
Then spot a place to nest
And build a place in a race
There is no time to rest.
The eggs grow legs and feathers
And beaks that open wide
And calls that fall like raindrops
In the nest where they reside.
I pause and use my beak and claws
To satisfy my young
Then set them free, so they may fly
The eclipse has now begun.
And one night on my last flight
I wing towards my home
On the wings of a bird
We’re born, then die alone.
©
David Rudder
17th April 2021
Thanks for reading.
