He stared up above, when he was just one,
At the new turtle dove, and the heavenly sun,
He'd listen to wind, as it blew through the trees,
Discovering song, of the new winter breeze,
He left from his house, when he was just three,
To live with a mouse, in a willow snap tree,
He'd slide down in the day, and climb up at night,
Then talk to the owls, and go for a flight,
He whips through the air, and misses the ground,
And steals the fowl feathers, to fly himself down,
Then jump on a cat, and play in the weeds,
They're off to the lake, to play in the reeds,
Than jumping and skipping, and making a wish,
To finish his swimming, and wait for a fish,
And all of the living, in days that can mend,
As the summer keeps giving, in the days without end.