Heed younge starling eager for flight, tender eyes no sight.
Your limbs so slight and feathers so few what can become of you?
Harshness awaits with hallowing winds chaffing against the night.
Stay put a while be not to hasty or like the others so full of rue.
Hoot of the owl can ruffle feathers just settle little one settle.
Comforts of warm Earth and down rill the light of day confronts.
More danger awakes slithering through the thick of the tall nettle.
Above and below there is no safely for a juvenile in waiting,
But wait but wait spring is near warm days and skies for soaring.
Spread wings so wide glory and pride with others all by your side.
From eft to flight grey to gold like the young lion and all its roaring.
Now is the time for no reservations your wings so open and wide.
Eyes open and boundless first fear then grondless free, free, free.
Soaring higher floating in air with so little care look this is me, me, me.