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He Bought the Birds to Set Them Free ©

To the Father of Dream Machines...
Nat Hall
Sandwick, Shetland
2003

On the hilltop he saw the prize;
On the paper he drew the wing.
The man-machine would shine and rise -
The cloth and ropes would fly the wind.

On market streets of the city
His avian friends awaited him.
With a few coins he set them free;
A heart so light - a wing so slim.

To buy the birds - to win the flight,
He watched them glide and felt the stream...
A breath of wing to kiss the light,
He stood on the edge of his dream.

The savant sketched the engineer;
The blueprint of the mechanic.
To scientists, their pioneer -
To the prelates, a heretic.

The surgeon eyes captured nature,
The skillful hands followed the line...
Mona Lisa kept her posture,
...The mystery behind the smile.

His passion for anatomy
Would propel man high in the sky!
Francis wanted philosophy -
The books remained quiet and shy.

They who'd be flying like a bird
Had to await four hundred years!
His wing does work - haven't you heard?
The Phoenix rose to new frontiers.


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