The Leading Bird

Clouds descend on grass grown wild
Tall and grand, lush in hand
They bend in air as man in prayer
I'm weaving through, trying to get to you

I'm running past birds of dawn
They sing like heaven, they're leading on

Yet I don't see slow-motioned wings
Like gold in sun, how it could be won
White as snow, silk-feathered doves
Eternal glow, they easily know

That life is grand in all its shapes
Whether it gives, whether it takes
That I am you, you are me
Loving grace can set us free
From sprinting far, above, beyond
Being our own strong magic wand

I'm pushing through, though knowing this
Thinking it all falls behind the next abyss
I'll get there soon and dwell there some
Till it's time for the next cloud to come