Fly High Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

The sky turns grey, a rumbling sound,
Feathers flutter, all around.
Small birds hide in leafy bowers,
Seeking safety from the showers.

But high above, with wings so wide,
The eagle turns, begins to ride.
Not down below, where winds will blow,
But up, where sunbeams start to glow.

So when life's rough winds start to churn,
And troubles make your spirit burn,
May your brave heart learn to fly,
Above the storm, beneath the sky.