I would I were a nightingale so high among the trees,
To bend with every chorus line and dance upon the breeze.
To lark about with field-mice on idle summer days,
And bask beneath the setting sun’s delightful golden rays.
To swoop and soar ad libitum with wind beneath my wings,
To revel in the wonderment that Mother Nature brings.
Maintaining anonymity upon my garden seat:
So rarely seen but daily heard; unendingly discreet.
But O! Perhaps there’s more to my desire than meets the eye:
My wish for boundless roaming in a never-ending sky;
My dream for total weightlessness and unencumbered flight,
To sleep amid the canopy for every day and night.
I would I were a nightingale if only for a day,
To look down on this barren world and quickly fly away.
By L.R. Chapman
from Modern Melancholy, 2011