A flock of birds,
Swirl in flight,
Looking for a place..
A place to rest their wings.
A few choose rest on branches,
A few to rest on land,
But yours a single blade of grass,
You found along the stream.
They fly again..
They swoop and swoon..
Across the open fields.
Yet there you rest..
Upon your perch..
Resting quite serene.