The Crossing

I stand waiting in the rain,

For the bus to come cascading by.

There I glimpse in the early morn,

A bird that dared to cross the sky.

My hair is soaked,

My glasses blind.

And yet this image,

Will not leave my mind.

A solitary creature,

And a noble soul.

Unlike I, the human,

Left under my own foot's sole.

I survive through the day,

And live for the night.

No one asks otherwise,

Till day bears new light.

The days melt into each other,

Adding to a never-ending stream.

Routine can kill a soul,

Or so it would seem.

All these ideas,

At every second of my sight.

All brought on,

By this angel's flight.

Why did only one fly today?

Is this a sign?

Where did her flock go?

When will my world be mine?

I am blessed with a cleansing eye,

When a bird dares to cross the sky.