The Bird
by Grant Wheeler

The wind caresses my feathers as I dip through the morning air,
The clouds hovering overhead,
If only I could fly high enough to touch their soft cottony fluff,
I swoop towards the golden sun,
It warms my feathers with rays of happy brilliant light,
Trees beckon me with their long branches as the leaves rustle like rain,
Flying is my way of life,
Other birds greet me with a gleeful chirp,
As I respond I realize,
How beautiful the morning is,
The sun glazes everything in warmth,
The clouds make vivid shapes in the sky,
And the sky seems as blue as ever today,
Anyone or anything can appreciate a gorgeous day.