The bird had broken wings and could not fly;
He sat and watched his brothers in the sky.
They soared and swooped and chased each others’ tails,
Their whoops of joy drowned out their brother’s wails.
He cradled wings that hurt and would not soar,
He wished to fly, to laugh and so much more,
Alone he sat, beside himself with pain,
His feathers grew bedraggled in the rain.
And then he felt a wing upon his own,
A friendly wing, and he felt less alone.
He snuggled in and warmth and comfort sought.
My wing will fix and then I’ll fly, he thought.
And so his hopelessness was soon unraveled;
Instead he dreamed of miles not yet traveled.