Ideas and Poems

The bird

It was struggling,
fighting to be free
It beat against its prison,
it's eyes imploring me

And then there was a deafening crash
and with a cry and a whistle
the bird flew out of sight

It revelled in its power,
in the lightness of its wings
It swooped down so,so low,
and looked down at the ground.

Taking one last look at
the place it was no longer bound.

It gave me a look of joy and wonder
with freedom in its eyes
Ruffled it's feathers

and flew into the sky.