Fly

Perched high on the dead branch of the river birch.
His watchful eyes gaze upon me.
I tred carefully awaiting his approval from his perch. 
No answer he gives, only a turn of his grand head. 
I move toward my destination by and by,  leaving him behind.
A chirp he says as I leave comes from his sharp beak. 
Looking back at his greatness, the white of his head stands on its edges. 
The largeness of him increases when no reply is given. 
From those wide and wild eyes I wish to be hidden. 
So they may unsee my soul and what lieth there in the dark. 
He releases a screech as his bronze feathers gleam. 
The depths of me awakens as it becomes clear. 
I run through the trees when he pushes of the branch stirring the leaves. 
He screeches and I cast my eyes to the sky. 
The sun throws the bird's shadow below as we break into the meadow. 
I have no shadow of my own. 
I run faster  as he soars further, as one we stride. 
With outstretched arms the wind moves against  me.
Closing me eyes I feel him there in the sky. 
The ground leaves my feet as together we fly.