A distant mystic call

Beneath the mountain’s foot,
A lonely willow stood;
Withered leaves screamed
Of broken wings and dreams.

An empty nest; that sang
Of parting tiny wings.
Mighty old branch smiled,
“Oh they twitter to fly miles.”

The sky spread out its arms
For the first flight to dive;
A distant mystic call
Said, “You are born to thrive.”

Out, on the open earth
Or the vast endless sea,
You’d see not another nest,
Warm like the one you left.

There may be snow;
Oh! It may also rain.
A breeze might gently blow
Or light might slowly drain.

“Fly! Oh bird, fly.”
Cried the same old call;
After all my friend,
It’s not distant at all.

edit willow


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