Once, I knew her words to be somber sickening little things. The burdens she carried so heavily on her white and withering wings. Alas it was she who showed me the truth, that beauty may be found in heavy words. Fit to pull the heavens down to earth they were, and that was the birth of me. When all merry mirth found a new place to hold residence; in the sad and somber. ‘Twas after this I found myself chasing memories of her seductive shell. ‘Twas after this where halos only fell upon horned heads which could do no wrong. It was thanks to she that I saw beauty in weighted wings.

I count the birds from 1 to 10,
Resting wings on branches thin,
Tired so from Winter’s call,
“Abandon homes, take flight all!”

They run the race from north to south,
On wings of grace no time for doubt,
The place to be is warm and bright,
“We’ll make it there, through day and night!”

Away your songs, forgo your nest,
The journey’s long, hope for the best,
How can we know, just where we’ll be?
“Why it’s past down from family!”

In flying V’s, in pairs, alone,
We make the trip to find our home,
And find somehow we’ve made it here,
“A place we’ve known since yesteryear!”