Bright Wings, bend quick to bring me home,
for I have wandered far from nest
where I felt first your warm feathers
brood oe’r me lest I leap and fall,
but I did leap and plummet fast
from plumage to the hard-packed earth,
perishing till you plucked me back
yet I persisted in falling –
a woodpecker searching metal
for the soft sustenance of bugs –
until you let me fall and fly
from the warmth of downy breast
to come and go across the lands.
But twilight stalks the singing dawn.
No teacher sung the sun awake
that I might see and learn to sing
and so my dawns were silent dark.
I, a deaf robin, tried to hunt
but tone-deaf earth brings forth no worms
and I cannot conduct the ground,
nor take wing to the bent burned stumps
when death circles to burn me down
and wolf away my frayed feathers.
Teach me to greet dawn with your song.
Show me your patch of teeming soil.
Tuck me tight between nest and wing
that I might learn to build my life
and learn to use my wings like you.