Those Who Fly

It started with birds
A turn of the wing
Taking a valley from brown to green
Mountains with snow, iced like cakes
Flourish blue and green in a great heron's wake.

On water some sit
Moving as one
A pattern they know
All lead and flow
The path carved in time and memory
From the old wings that have flown
To the new that dibble and dabble
And dip and turn.

The baby chick hatches its egg
Breaking the surface with a triumphant cry
Ready to defy the sky
And paint wing beats of beauty
Against great blues and orange hues
Water the brush and air the canvas
The wings the colors
The mind the imagination
A bird is a creature
One that we envy
A creature with the meaning to touch up high
And fly.