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In a vast field

Being a small creature made of straw and brushwood has its advantages.
I run fast because the wind is pushing me.
And I can almost touch the sky, breathing the sparks of a rain of stars.
I cried on the soil cool.
The wind attacks, blowing strong, why can not bear to see me do not fly, can not stand it no longer hers.
"Now I want to be here!" he shouted.
E 'jealous, but too cool for me really bad. I tend
then my fists of dry stems and try to think. I
fly!
I can sing with the wind!
I can warm up almost to burn in the sun!
I can hide under a dark hat to whisper to the Swallows "Fly higher still, because I want to learn."
I can stand still!
And I can cry, when a summer rain flooded my eyes, cables.
Sometimes I can feel the roots of yellow flowers or bright red poppies, tickle my feet underground.

grow and become stronger and I feel
!
I can also die. Checking this
dry twigs and I'm gone.
But there's one thing I still can not do ...
I want to find out where the rainbow begins walking and light from one color to another, collecting a few drops in a bucket of blue as the sky.
Then after returning to the field, to become a scarecrow in a magnificent rainbow of straw.
What makes you smile.
What makes you laugh.
And never make you afraid.
Bimbo.