Coasting on the wind, fallen from the nest.
Caught in gusts and blows.
Foreign trees to rest.
Bringing all the storms, to every leaf and bough.
Songs stretched through horizon, feathering the now.
Drawing on the roof top, a breathless cry of pain.
Bullets of the cloud form, drowning in the rain.
Headed on to Ursa, tired wings still fly.
Fighting for the welcome,
of flocks above the sky.