The bird’s wings flap, open, close, open,
as it settles on its nest of a home.
There it is dry and safe
the nest towers in the oak trees.
There the bird has a place to leave
and come back to, to live.

At home we live,
the doors are always open
if we leave.
A place to call home
It is enclosed by a dense forest of trees
that ring around the home and keep us safe.

I flee from the storm, looking for a safe
place to take shelter, a place that will allow me to live.
A crack rings through the air, followed by trees
that tremble and one plows into the ground. I run into the open,
And find a home,
The threatening storm lifts and the clouds leave.

The family has to leave
a place that has always been cozy and safe.
As the car drives away from the home
tears drop like rain for the place they onced lived.
They drive onto a fresh, pristine and open
page waiting for them to fill up, like a forest of solid trees.

Deep within the overgrown trees,
A tiny flower becomes a transplant, it leaves.
It is placed in a garden. When the sun comes it blooms and its petals open.
Now away from the world it had once been in, it does not realize it is safe,
Everyday it is watered, cared for. It can live,
it can grow. It digs its roots deeper in its new home.

Everything has a place, has a home
You can never cut it down. The roots will still spread, like trees’.
People survive, but the ones with homes can live.
They never want to leave.
It is shelter from any danger, it is safe.
Secrets stay closed in, welcomes stay open.

The bird in the open soars home.
It strains to discover its safe place in the trees.
It didn’t want to leave, but it was the only chance it had to live.