Pale wings blurring,
The pinions of your strength,
Your yellow eyes searching,
As you glide, as you fly.
Your soft white body,
Arcs across the heavens,
Your feathers groomed
By the force of your passage.
Cruising on high,
Above us all,
What thoughts exist,
In your avian mind?,
Do you dream of fishes,
In glittering heaps?
Or do you follow the scents
From the human's refuse pits?
As you wing through the skies,
What things do you see?
What catches your eye?
Can you remember the egg?
That first crack in your world,
The endless blue firmament,
Did that catch your eye?
It must have I think,
It must have captured your soul.
© Colin Hope 1993.