Email Poem

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Poem

We all were put into a cage
To be a show in  a wintry land,
Spaced out along a metal perch
To spread our plumes to your command.

The best laid plans can go astray,
And in containment lies escape.
The open door, and we flew away.
Your hand brought down the lock, too late.

We swoop and soar, and the sky can hear.
We are jazz trumpets, we sing the sun.
And in the miles of sound and air,
We are the wings of a tropic song.

The trees are camouflage, our home.
We perch, and scan the world around.
And now on scented air we roam,
And never touch the solid ground.

So glimpse us gladly in plain sight,
And hear our song from tree to tree.
As we break shelter and take flight,
The element has made us free.

And you could feel the world in spin,
The patterns in the altitude
To store against the winter's wind,
And pour like sun on clouded views.

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