The Bird Is An Artist

I feel the sun as it is; warm and bright to touch my face and wake me from my dream the light over the hill will bring a fight, for life is not the gift it can so seem. I stretch my wings, this day I write, I sing, to fly is art and that is what it brings. Not without a risk or fear of failing, Walking closer to the edge unknown I look over and see the ground below me, jumping from my perch as straight as falling fruit, I strive for greatness, not to get by but excel, to feel as much as can be.