The bird who carried the sky

The bird who carried the sky

A little blue bird landed
upon a crooked tree,
and stared into the distance
as if waiting just for me.

His feathers held the colours
of the ocean and the sky,
with golden streaks of sunshine
that were glowing in his eye.

The leaves began to tumble,
one by one around his feet,
some were green and some were brown,
and every one looked sweet.

He didn’t seem to notice
as the whole world rushed along,
he simply sat there quietly
as though listening for a song.

I asked him where he’d come from,
but he only turned his head,
then gave a tiny whistle
that sounded like he said,

“I’ve travelled through the blue place
where the sleeping clouds are born,
and I’ve watched the golden sunrise
kiss the roses every morn.”

I asked him where he travelled,
and he looked towards the sun,
then spread his little wings out
as if his journey had begun.

But he didn’t fly away yet,
he just waited in the tree,
and somehow in that moment
the whole world came to me.

The colours started swirling,
the leaves began to dance,
the sky became a painting
and I felt myself entranced.

Then suddenly he lifted
and disappeared from sight,
leaving just a feather
that was shining blue and white.

I picked it up so carefully
and held it to the sun,
and wondered if his magic
had only just begun.

For maybe little birds know
what we sometimes fail to see—
that there’s a whole enchanted world
waiting patiently to be free.