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A little
bird who could not fly,
Once asked his mother, "Why, oh Why?
When other birds are soaring high,
I cannot fly, although I try."
"I run
along the ground so fast,
I flap my wings, so that at last,
I'll climb into the sky above,
And soar on wings, just like a dove."
"But I
just stay upon the ground,
Instead of flying heaven-bound,
And watch the others pass me by,
I cannot fly, oh why, oh why?"
His
mother looked on him with love,
And said, "My son, you're not a dove,
"You're just a penguin on the ice,
But in itself, that should suffice."
"For when
you dive into the sea,
You are the penguin you should be,
You fly along through ebb and flow,
You are a bird down here below."
And as he
thought of what she said,
No longer had he any dread,
Of never flying in the sky,
No longer asking, "Why, oh why?"
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
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