flightless feathers

we are not creatures of flight. It's just how things are, But we all yearn to be. We all want to rise higher and be bigger. we almost all want to envy the birds,with their melodious songs, their swooping dances and breathless ease. Naturally we are nothing like the birds. Our movement is planned and patterned. We doet swooping syrinic soun't sing in simple yet swooping syrinic sounds. We stand here firmly planted as they are free about us. Oh to be free above where we are,to see a sunset and explore it. Gliding in almost painted colors of pink and violet. we wish the moon could be even a mile closer. So we try. We put feathers in our flightless hair and manifest our wishes though sight. But men cannot fly upon flightless feathers. The flightfull ones will always flirt with us, singing down their freedom to our feathered heads. But we cannot be like them, not truly. So I pluck the stolen wings from my hair and learn to be happy on the ground.