In the whisper of morning light,
When the breeze drifts soft and new,
A cockatoo lifts its wings to heaven
As if remembering what God once knew.
For flying is more than motion—
It is the freedom written in their bones,
A gift placed there by God’s own hand,
A hymn of sky that only a bird truly knows.
And yet, in a safe and loving aviary,
Where branches wait and sunlight spills,
Their hearts still rise with gratitude,
Their spirits soar without the hills.
For freedom isn’t only distance,
Or wild horizons, far and wide—
Sometimes it’s the peace of knowing
You are sheltered, loved, and safe inside.
So they flap their wings with gentle joy,
Not longing for what they’ve never lost—
For even here, beneath your care,
God’s gift of flight still comes across.
A flutter, a glide, a soft white feather—
Heaven touches earth in every sway.
In their wings lives God’s creation,
In their trust lives grace each day.
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