Fledgling runs from nest,
lands on turf, nose first,
tail in the air,
sheepish look,
puzzled stare.
Flaps paddle feet, runs,
holding windmill arms out,
till a sudden draft lifts him,
up there.
Over water he flaps,
then drops to the surface
like an autumn pear.
Torpedo sharks beneath would love
to rip open that bulging breast;
he rises on unsure legs, strides
along the surface. Suddenly,
he is flying with care.
Looking down, he whispers as he glides,
over oceans, across seas,
monitoring movement of tides,
foaming white horse hair-
stingray, swimming in the air.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautifully visual! A lovely poem! ! ! Dawn xx