Staring from a golden eye-ring,
checking whether you can fly.
You just stand and get your bearings,
silent when not set up high.
Then the assurance in the wings,
back to where you are not shy
to chiff and chaff and trill and sing,
for audiences far and wide.
In comfort you are trumpeting,
outside of it you only hide.
When you feel at home you bring
your special notes that fill the sky.
