A tired man walking alone in the desert
Happened upon a bird not startled by his approach
So the curious man asked the bird how to fly,
The old desert bird politely described what he could‒
How he flapped his fledging wings for hours upon hours
Afraid he wouldn’t survive the first height.
Time passed and his patience diminished
From long restless days in the nest,
Until finally one day when he thought he was ready
Deciding to give flight a try.
The young bird steadied his nerve, and
Hopped near to the edge
Then lost suddenly his footing and fell,
Crashing quickly toward rocks and soil
He spread his wings hard,
Bracing for certain demise.
How frightening, said the man, interrupting the story
Impressed by the birds explanation,
Thinking himself close to the knowledge of flight.
Yes, very scary indeed, said the bird,
A very close call with disaster,
But that has nothing to do with how to fly,
And gets you no nearer the answer.
It probably won’t make much sense to you, said the wise bird
But after all these years in the sky
I know it’s less about wings than the wind.
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