bird song

I tilt, I soar
On wings aflame with reds and golds,
And brown my beak,
I call, I sing aloud;
The sky is mine.

I drift, I gaze
O’er fields and hills and farms
Soft roll beneath.
The daily toil and labour of their hands,
Turn earth for food, grow fruits and seeds;
I feast, I feed;
The earth is mine.

I twist, I turn
In azure blue,
Vast skies surround and all is mine.
I plummet and dive
Like arrows that fall to snatch
The lazy fly or cunning wasp;
The air is mine.

I swoop, I chase
Fat pigeons ‘mongst these bristling rooftop pins
And chimney stacks spit smoke
And up I soar.
Yellow eyes they glint
And paws may flail,
Still higher I climb and lazy circles swim;
The town is mine.

I twirl, I spin
In easy motions chase the light and warmth around the globe.
This air my ocean,
Each mile I pass I cherish;
New winds I glide,
New heights I reach.
I tilt, I soar, I fly;
The world is mine.