Migration

Purple sky

Pink and white clouds like a hare's tail

Silver stars peeking through the veil

Whenever we shall fly

Against the squalling gale

We cannot fail

For it is on us they do rely

And for that we will prevail

In a quest for a holy grail

To our summer home we say goodbye

Spirits high and uncurtailed

On our wings we do set sail

Towards the winter cove that is surely nigh

Down we retreat from storms of epic scale

Forewarned we were of peace that will derail

This call to move we cannot deny

At last we have reached the end of the trail

In our success, we exhale

A sigh

Of relief.