A chorus
rising from
newborn fields
of cerulean,
ancient bird songs
cooed only
by the select
of tongue,
float on nimbled
wings,
August in
her kindness
gives a helping breeze
to the fledgling -
a beaten underdog
of the angelic flock,
"cry no more
little one, aloft
you will stay",
stray feathers
bathed
in speckled gold
go forth
upon jade fringed
islands below,
showering sun-kissed
rain.