Lay to flight
Little birds,
Sailing through a melancholy blue,
Soaring high above like pennies
Waiting to fall.
Hearing my call, trees rustle, so tall,
Enveloping the clouds in the highest emerald tops.
A mass escape,
The birds flee,
Joining free,
Reaching upwards,
Streaming, swirling,
Magnificence twirling, causing
A flock of black flutters,
So strangely,
Climbing into the air with ease
As if they were born on the breeze.
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