A lark sang from a cherry tree, "I am,"
then flew to find a mate to share his nest.
No doubts or hesitation stalled his flight,
for sense of purpose stood behind his quest.
A fawn cried from unsteady feet, "I am,"
then took one skittish step before one more.
He could have chosen safety of retreat,
but he knew worlds awaited to explore.
Why does my voice delay to shout, "I am,"
when every instinct tells me it is time?
Like lark and fawn I need to realize
I'll never reach the peak without the climb.
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