Small Bites Before Great Flights

When I am watching from my tree,
Many wonders can unfold quietly.
A tiny egg rests beneath a leaf,
Small, yet holding glory past belief.

A caterpillar breaks its shell one day,
Then takes a little bite and chews away.
No feast is finished with just one chew.
It grows by doing what it needs to do.

One bite, then one more, from leaf to leaf,
Its patient work is too small to earn belief.
Yet every meal adds strength I cannot see,
Preparing it for whatever it soon will be.

It sheds its skin because it cannot stay
Inside the shape that served it yesterday.
Growth always asks that something old depart,
To make more room for what is in the heart.

A writer starts with thoughts as small as seeds,
Then feeds the mind by learning what it needs.
One sentence comes, then one more finds its place;
Each paragraph advances at a caterpillar’s pace.

A page may seem like little work to show,
But page by page, the manuscript will grow.
The words each day may never seem profound,
Yet books are built when small words gather round.

The writer too must shed an older skin,
Revise the page, then shape the work again.
Some treasured lines must fall and disappear,
So stronger truth can rise more bright and clear.

The caterpillar finds a quiet room,
A chrysalis that looks much like a tomb.
Yet hidden where my eyes can’t see,
A greater work unfolds mysteriously.

Then comes the strain—the pressing to break free,
No easy birth can come to what was meant to be.
The butterfly must struggle toward the light,
Before its wings can open for their flight.

So writers labor, polishing each line,
Until the words reveal their full design.
What started as a thought, unsure and slight,
Becomes a work that lifts the heart in flight.

An article may flutter through the air,
And carry hope to someone in despair.
A book may spread its wings beyond our sight,
And fill a searching reader with great delight.

So hear me squawk this wisdom from the trees:
Great works are rarely written with great ease.
One bite, one step, one word, one page—then wings.
That’s how persistent work makes wondrous things.

Keep writing when the beauty can’t be seen.
The hidden work is changing what has been.
Faithful words, when born through patient flight,
Will one day fill the world with truth and light.