The Poet Bird Poem by Laa Finita

Not an easy path,
brave and quiet, he walks,
head up, sad shoulders,
needing shelter from storms.

Beating fast his heart,
sweetly singing his song,
he moves, gently, away,
seeks, to warmer forests, the road.

From Fall he flies,
a sparrow, a seagull,
a poet, a man,
diving, calm, into Destiny,
aiming, doubtless, Springtime.

If good and blessed is my Luck
his magic art, to give,
his dear heart, to share,
whistling lightly, he'll fly back.

La Finita