Dreams of sparrows.
I do not think I would like
To rather be a sparrow
I do not fear the flight
but the sorrow.
His years spread the breadth of my hand.
A snatch of dust on a winter's wind,
He cannot pause to understand
What little has been given him.
And with all the troubles of
his brief and bitter life
he cannot throw them off
and dream of flight.
He cannot exchange wings
for all his worldly woes.
In our skies we escape these things
but as these dreams his real world follows.
So I would rather not be a sparrow,
I would not trade him with me
I will take the work and harrow
And keep my flying free.