Consider the sparrow...
As it soars through the powdered winter sky.
It flies towards the warm embrace
Which waits to take up the tiny creature
And keep it safe 'til its
last whimpering breath.
Spearhead flocks of sparrows shoot overhead
toward their goal,
Few, if any, stay.
With their dreams of joy,
Passion for their goal surges through their swift-pulsing hearts.
Adrenaline-driven wings, beating repeatedly, eternally,
Push them onward.
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Comments about this poem (Migration by Cory Ruda )
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