The clouds so small, and yet- so grand
Can be but a ball of cotton in my hand
The birds fly through them- smiling
The sun shines through them brightly
Smiling at the waves crashing in the sand
The grass so soft, the moor so wide
Comforts those hiding from the birds up high
The cattails slowly moving-
Back as it soaks in the evening tide
They mock the geese that're flying by
And they mock me... for I cannot fly
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