• It bathed

    It whirred,

    Oh how it sounded.

    It hummed,

    Just like freedom.



    Its breath,

    Its longing,

    A neck

    Made for twisting



    A dance of feathers

    That soared

    Up high,

    Above those

    Fields of rye



    Eyes big and wide

    Wisdom,

    Without its pride



    It whirred,

    The sound,

    Felt like freedom



    All I knew

    Was that I could fly