I dream of carrying a bird,

anxious of how I would cradle her wings.

My fingers gently ruffling her cream-buff

she settles down, onto my stomach.

I am captivated by my featherweight friend

gazing into my navel. She claws lint, tutting to herself.

I know she has a story of brave flights and adventures.

I feel her patient sigh:

overcast, overshadowed but never outsung.

Outcast, out of sight. But never outdone.

She knows:

the birds could beat the bear,

who thought them less worthy.

Now she sings a song of the soul,

of the world, of the space beyond –

of the honourable children.