Ode to Birds

By: Sophia Rogan

An ancient angel above the earth, 

Painted colors of every streak in reality, 

With familiar songs filled with mirth. 

Your very being is our definition of free. 

Your skin is as cold as the sky you soar,

Your arms, outstretched, adorned with God’s most precious design, 

Given a material as light as the clouds they bring you to. 

The joy of flight is gifted naturally to you, 

A thing so precious even man seeks to replicate it. 

Your figure above us in the skies colored blue, 

Or in the green of soft trees outside the window, of which our cat sits, 

Or in the dark beneath the moon with a gentle calling coo, 

Or perched against the mighty steel we’ve blossomed into our cities. 

You are everywhere we look, your songs are within our beating hearts. 

In my dreams I join you in the vastness of the heavens, 

Tasting air, whistling wind in my ears, sharing your worldly possessions. 

Doves and hawks, puffins and big geese flocks, 

I know I am home when I hear your call.