His hands hide inside a sleeve And little feet play with the ground beneath him While up in the sky is where he wants to be Time will fly And the wind plays with him The night will give him its charm While he walks home His head's up in a cloud He feels his pores fill up with fresh air And there's no doubt That one day he will be Where the eye of his telescope has already been Night will pass But he's a lot faster No one can do him any harm The Gathering, Nighttime Birds , 1997.