Stir Of The Starts

In the quiet nook of a loving home, Is my small world- fenced by iron bars, and a limited sky. Protected from storms and predator’s eye. Fresh clean water, steady sunflower seed supply. Almost a picture-perfect life. Yet, I often sigh. I yearn for lush trees, and open endless skies. Where the sun shines bright And the moon climbs high. I long to join the chorus of dawn, spread my wings and fly. I want to build a nest with mud, leaves and twigs dry Teach my younglings to soar by and by. One day the door unlatched, my stunted feathers gave a try. I flapped and fluttered, then bid my cell goodbye. My tiny little throat Gave out a joyous cry. Now I had mountains, valleys, And jungles to ply. In this new beginning, food was scarce, The streams were dry. No waterproof nest, where I could lie. Stars blinked down with a silent sigh. And I had to forgo, my melodious lullaby. For the constant fear of the hunter’s pry. New starts are challenges, I won’t deny. They test your spirit. But also fortify. They cast doubts, Nevertheless, clarify. So, crush the whispers of fear, and learn to identify. For new horizons bloom, where limits die.