A Dream of Birds

In the soft light, where evening falls, A silken sound of wings unfurls, As the birds, like notes of silver, Paint the sky in delicate swirls,

With their songs, weaving whispers, Through branches, the lingering air, Where each melody flutters, glimmers, A treasure to capture, rare.

The world be a stage for their soaring, Free spirits against the azure sea; O, to join them in that adoring, To leave the earth, to just be free!

But they are abstract, we mere shadows, Caught in lives that draw us low. Let me be a songbird, echoing throes, Flying high in the dusk’s warm glow.

• Albert Samain