The fluttering wind of a flock of birds wings
Taking to the sky
Scared from the grass
They rise
Feathers stroking, seeking
Height
In the flurry
Forgotten
A bird rests on the ground
She will not rise
Her time has flown
Soft eyes
Closing
It seems a gentle thing
Death
Sad
But really
Isn’t it all just a dream?
Are we part of the flock
Or tokens of something greater
In the end we surrender
Alone
And the flock
Flies on without us
