The song of the migrant bird

From the distant lands far,
The migrant bird sings,
Beneath the golden yellow sky
Spread wide its green wings.

Glittering waves in ocean blue,
Spread wide, far and long,
Passing through smoky clouds,
Echoes its ethereal song.

Crossing a thousand miles
Flying where no birds fly,
Lonely at such great heights,
It is one with the sky.

The sights are strange from above,
The horizons curved and bent,
Perspectives change at such heights,
The chilled air feels heaven sent.

One day, it will land on a grassy patch,
And rest its worn out wings,
But now is the time to fly,
Piercing the clouds as it sings.