Fly High, So High

The bird, by fortune was found

Presumed dead, lying on the ground.

The boy found a box for the bird 

And spoke to it comforting words.

Its wing had been wounded somehow,

So it couldn't fly as of now.

 

He fed the bird—gave it such care—

As to help it return to the air.

Each day, as the bird grew stronger, 

The boy watched and waited longer

'Til one day he heard the bird tapping 

And noticed that both wings were flapping.

 

Starting out, his arm low to the land, 

The bird sitting so near his right hand, 

The boy made his arm fall and rise 

'Til the bird looked him square in the eyes—

As if to say 'Thanks for the care,' 

Then it flew off, high into the air.

 

The boy called, as it lit on a tree, 

"Fly as high as your eyes can see!

Fly high, so high you can't tell 

You ever were injured or fell!" 

Then the bird seemed to gather its will 

And flew from the tree, higher still, 

Until it was so far up, so high—

It was only a speck in the sky.

 

Flying just where the boy could yet see—

The boy yelled out, "Fly high; you are free!"

The bird needed a safe place to heal,

So once again it could reveal 

The strength it had always possessed.

It had needed to be the boy's guest.

 

And then in the distance, a cry—

'Twas the bird saying 'I'm flying high!'

It had rested for time to repair,

But it wasn't to habitate there. 

A place it would find, by and by.

Fly, free bird. Fly high, so high.

 

© 2024 Teresa Miles Kephart