Fly, Specky, Fly!

By Alice Gilbreath

Specky Sparrow cheeped and fussed

and wouldn’t learn to fly.

His patient mother coaxed and called,

“Please, Specky, come and try.”

“I can’t! I can’t!” cried Specky.

“I know my wings will break.

I’ll fall straight down and hit the ground,

or land out in the lake.”

“He can’t,” said the ant.

“He won’t try,” said the fly.

“Doesn’t know how,” said the cow.

“He’s not very big,” said the pig.

“Leap,” said the sheep.

“Let go,” said the doe.

“When, when?” asked the wren.

“Let me see,” said the bee.

His friends discussed his problem

and decided on a plan.

They found a very large green leaf

shaped something like a fan,

And made a grass-blade harness

and a tiny flying suit,

Then hooked them to the spreading

leaf to make a parachute.

“Fits like a glove,” said the dove.

“Fits like a coat,” said the goat.

“Now you’ll see,” said the flea.

“Go, go,” said the crow.

“Jump now,” said the cow.

“Try, try,” said the fly.

“Never fear,” said the deer.

“Good luck,” said the duck.

Specky Sparrow looked and looked

down at the ground below.

“My feet are brave enough,” he said,

“but my wings won’t seem to go.”

Then suddenly a gust of wind

blew Specky way up high.

It tore the chute and harness off,

leaving Specky in the sky.

“It’s broken loose,” said the goose.

“He’s way up there,” said the bear.

“He looks pale,” said the snail.

“He’ll land in a thicket,” said the cricket.

“He’ll land in a bog,” said the frog.

“He’ll land in the brush,” said the thrush.

“He’ll fall on the house,” said the mouse.

“Terrible luck,” said the duck.

Then Specky’s wings began to move

and flutter in the sky.

“I think I can,” cried Specky,

“I’ll sure give it a try!”

He wobbled, tilted, bobbed, and swayed.

He almost hit the ground.

But soon his wings were stronger

and he was skyward bound.

“Watch him go,” said the crow.

“See him steer,” said the deer.

“He’s flying better,” said the setter.

“He’s over the lake,” said the snake.

“He’s over the road,” said the toad.

“He’s over the park,” said the lark.

“How pleasant,” said the pheasant.

“What a day!” said the jay.

Now flying’s Specky’s favorite sport.

His wings are straight and strong.

He flies up high. He flies down low.

He flies the whole day long.

In summer, winter, spring, and fall,

in rain and wind and snow,

His friends all watch and point and say,

“Just look at Specky go!”

Illustrated by Karen Sharp