I hear the joyful cranes overhead,

they seem to laugh in the wind,

their notes so harmonious no human could dream them,

each movement of the wing sews a new beat into their unending pattern.

 

I try to capture their graceful actions with the tip of my pencil,

but my notebook and words are no match for their heavenly movements,

they've liberated themselves in the cashmere clouds. 

 

So graceful, they seem to spring from the pages of my journal,

their gleaming jeathers catch the aureate sun,

like a castle catches fire. 

 

With utter delight, I watch them soar above the clouds,

I listen to their lyrical voices summoning their brethren from afar.

 

Neutral to the streaked whisps of turqouise sky,

calming to my curious hazel eyes,

yet again their voices cry.

 

I lay on the fading grass,

a sun beam connecting to my ever growing smile.

Their bodies are covered by random orange patches

as I watch the sandhill cranes inscribed into the north breeze.