Dylan Wyatt


Every family has one. A Blackbird.
One who doesn’t quite fit in,
flies a little differently.

Instead of joining the other birds,
he soars against the wind,
flapping to survive.

He doesn’t try to hide his feathers,
yet no one ever sees him
in his own unique glory.

Meanwhile, on the inside, he secretly
wishes to be a plain gull,
white feathers and all.

On the days with a blue sky overhead,
he ventures out far and wide
in search of something.

What he finds is always a welcome surprise.
Like an untouched cherry tree
in a field of white roses.

There, he meets a lovely dove all alone,
perched on a fragile branch.
Sadness shows in her eyes.

At first, he is too afraid to approach her,
worried she will only fly away,
leaving him alone again.

But then she flutters over next to him,
and her eyes don’t look as sad.
For once, neither do his.

She drapes her soft, white wings over him.
Together they sing into the night
until it’s the next morning.

He realizes, accepts, with her beside him,
being a blackbird doesn’t mean
he can’t be happy too.