Frail silvered bird of man’s invent
In air or drift its time is spent.
My heart flies high on lofty wings
That listen while the current sings.
Not hindered by the traffic’s clog
Nor crippled by the moving fog,
Bold sailing vessel of the sky
Will light on waves that heave and sigh
Like gannet, gull or tern at home
It glides across the azured foam
And banks and heads into the breeze
To land upon its wide-webbed skis.
The thought occurs, as well it might
Of all it’s seen within its flight,
Most images that on the ground
Will thought and deed intense confound,
When viewed from such a distant height
Do lose their power and their fright
And fade into the circle’s knot
Reminding us what’s been forgot.
If man can rise above the roar
And restful through the clouds can soar,
Observe that life seems twined about
And to his aims, remain devout
While blithely sailing cross that sky,
Yet never place his sight too high
To live in peace and reach content,
Remember sometimes wings get bent.
Claire V. Bogdanos 