I first saw the bird, attentive, head cocked to the right

The stubble wheat scratched my bare legs,I moved

The bird rose in flight, flying high, soaring on the winds

Then as if by magic it dived, swooping to look below

My toes twitched, my little hands held high in expectation

I dreamed of flight, to hunt amongst the clouds

Descend through drizzling rain

Land and take wing again

Come bird of the blue teach me to fly

Teach me to spread my wings, teach me to lie on the winds’ waves

Let me see the valleys and chase the water in the mountain streams

Let me feel the mad winds of March, and sense the coming of spring

Come bird of the blue teach me to fly

Should I reach up to you?

I am but small and do stretch to limits of my fingertips

I stood on tiptoes, arms aloft

Still I cannot reach you

Come bird of the blue teach me to fly

May be if I climb the tallest tree

Throw my arms to the heavens

Try and touch the clouds as they skip silently by

Then, may be, I will fly

Come bird of the blue teach me to fly

The tree was but a poor attempt.

As I jumped there was that brief moment,

That glorious moment when land and sky converged

I flew, then

I cried.

David Nutt, February 2005