Fly away little bird,
Far away where the fence posts are made of splintering wood!
Beat your wings until you are a thousand miles above the earth,
Until the buildings are specks of dirt.
Fly away
Where the grass is not cut so close,
Where the land is not reshaped and built upon and crowded.
Beyond the horizon.
Beyond my window pane,
Dirty glass that is spotted with prints from my fingertips.
My fingertips that will one day become
Feathered wings.
Fly away.
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