With feet entangled in the green, gray earth.
They too are prisoners from their earliest birth,
Yet they have flung their fragrance forth to me
That I, a captive mind, may share their joy.
Now, as I listen, laughter dies away;
In Earth's tall tree-tops, dim and out of sight,
I hear the mining beak of one small bird,
Striving for freedom with its puny strength.
Now the shell breaks; it struggles into life;
Its mother's wings enfold it; it is safe.