We fear the flying birds

the ones that thunder across the sky,

the ones that delicately flutter from branch to branch

We fear the arch of their wings,

the strength and sureness

they have learned by daring to step off that branch

and risk falling to their deaths

We fear their freedom,

the longing that we will never be

bold enough to soar to lands unknown

We fear their wisdom,

as they glide over Mount Hermon

their eyes cast heavenward

We fear the flying birds

watch them in anger and awe (hear the trumpet sing)

and we know (we know)

that once we too bore wings and ruled the skies.  

© Christine Bottas. All rights reserved.