Wings migrate when seasons shift,

a subtle breeze will turn…

 

low murmurs ‘neath new feathers lift

their flight away from home…

 

un-compassed in their domestic fledge

unknowing of its end,

 

they ride the winds of nature’s pledge

wherever they may send.

 

Yet not the same for men as birds,

with knowledge of return…

 

for them just hateful fists and words

that wish their homelands burn…

 

and what of those that come anew?

Not born of blood or soil,

 

will they feel safe as free men do?

No State their lives to spoil.