There's a tiny bird
Who loves to fly
Not close to the ground
But way up high!
The lark, ascending,
Climbing for fun,
Riding the wind,
Touching the sun.
Watch her soar
At vast altitude,
Absorbed by her joy,
Glorious solitude!
Mischievous breezes
Toss her around,
'Til...tired and elated
She flies - homeward bound.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lovely write, capturing the glorious sense of freedom of our feathered chums... Love it! Jxxx