The bird took off into the sky,
Spreading it's wings for flight.
A gentle breeze eased it higher,
Yet further from the ground.
The mother bird gazed on intently,
Protective of it's young.
The bird was gaining height so fast,
It's mum now a mere dot.
The older birds flew up above,
Swooping and diving for fun.
The bird looked down in anxious fear,
At the houses far below.
Never had it been so very high,
That people looked so small.
To him they were now tiny blobs,
Not bigger than him any more.
The breeze around him suddenly ceased,
And the bird started drifting down.
The people below were no longer blobs,
And his mother was entering view.
As he was swooping back down to the nest,
He took one last glance above.
Still the older birds were playing,
Not a single care in the world.
They hadn't to worry, they hadn't to work,
For they had already learnt to fly.