Runway

The savannah is a runway
When predators are near
This leggy bird won’t hang about
When she wants out of here
Her bouncy strides are massive
She reaches epic speeds
Goodness knows she’s got the toes
For the getaway she needs
The wind whips through her feathers
The scenery’s a blur
But could it be that as she flees
A memory might stir?
Something deep, ancestral
A murmur in her mind
Of just what it might feel like
To leave the dust behind?
To soar above the grasslands
To cruise up in the blue
To see her world in miniature
Now that’s a birds-eye view!
Fifty-miles an hour
Must almost feel like flying
But her body type’s not right
For gravity-defying
She can only dream about
That sheer exhilaration
All her wings are good for
Is to help deceleration
The savannah is a runway
And she runs away, unbounded
But when it comes to taking off
Our ostrich friend is ... grounded.