Flying into the dream,
Featherheads light
On the wing,
Lost in the fabled magic of flight

Following the sun,
Following the moon,
Following the wind
Into unread distances

Along the long coast lines
Of grounded continents
As if by magic discovered
Out of thin air and stars

Along the lines
Of feeding grounds,
Nesting grounds,
Eggs hatched,
Fledglings fledged and flown

From half remembered perches
Among the tangled trees
On the shores of distant lakes,
Half remembered roosts
Along the long migrations,

Distances, journeys,
Wild nights on the wing,
Bones as light as feathers,
Lifted, set, launched

Upwards and outwards
Along the long fabled migrations,
A life of open air
And boundless horizons,

Feet never quite touching the ground