Perpetual Thrill

by In All Our Years

I watched a bird fly today.

Lifting from the earth, with some waver at first,

and then engaged, fully into ease of flight.

Up, up and higher still, a branch reached out,

welcoming the small bird,

floating effortlessly,

into and onto the waiting tree.

The bird did not boast,

nor look away,

but simply sat and thought.

Oh what a wonderful day-

I looked up at the bird.

The bird looked down at me.

Why I asked, why is it a wonderful day?

Only you may know, for soon I must go.

We thought together then- and soon-

The bird stepped from the branch,

the earth lending a hand,

down, down and lower still,

then swoosh and away,

the bird flew into and after all,

perpetual thrill.