A little bird, made all of clay,
Who longs to be much more,
Peering out the window to
Its fellows on the shore
Where they can splash among the waves
Or spring into the air
To wing away from earth’s dull drag
And fly where ‘er they dare.
A longing roils from deep within
Its terracotta heart
To leap away from nesting clay
And seek another start
Among the clouds and deep blue sky,
Where all its dreams have flown,
Though it is bound by earthen wings
To dreams as cold as stone.
Dream on, small bird, with wings of clay,
Your dreams are not unknown,
But for this time you’re needed here
And you are not alone.
I too am bound by flightless wings
And dreams I must postpone,
But someday, when the time is right,
We’ll live the hopes we’ve sown.
All my longings lie open before you, Lord; my sighing is not hidden from you.
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