Craftsman

As he pours his skill
Into the chisel’s blade
He dreams of
A bird with opened wings.

He frames in his thoughts
A world beatiful and blue
Before the bird is released
To spread across the sky.

He is a patient craftsman
Gathering up all his love
Not stinting his sweat
That drops on the carefully composed feathers.

Sometimes blood spatters from his fingers
Reminding him of the distant strife
“May this bird that I release
not return with a wounded wing.”