I wait patiently for the wings
to move, as though attached
to a butterfly slowly emerging
from her too brief chrysalis home.
I want to feel the air shift
ever so gently as she
lifts into a cloudless sky.
I want to marvel at
the grace she shows
swooping overhead,
then alighting once again.
But I am no God,
no origami master
and so my cranes sit
with their kin hoping
one day to be a senbazuru.