I wander across a silent land
As a miserably lonely man
Following the call of
An early morning bird
With nothing in my head,
And nothing in my hands
The bird, in all its morning cheer
Chirps and trills for all to hear
It sings even though there is no crowd,
Its song is as magnificent as it is loud
It holds its head up, proud and high,
It looks up daringly at the sky,
Like the clouds are challenging it
To fly
It leaves the branch it rested on
Wings spreading as it took off
And I still remain a lonely wight,
But maybe I, too, can take flight.
