When someone calls you a big C, maybe they’re complimenting your breathtaking greatness, endless vitality, and calming presence.

Feathers white as refracted light, a neck curved like a sigmoid line. Territorial, yet moving with grace - what creature rules a mirrored place?

I wear a feathered coat so grand, Yet never soar above the land. My legs can race the desert floor, Though wings I have, I fly no more.

I once was sap in forest shade, then heat transformed what nature made. Now I may bounce, erase, or roll, a stretchable thing with many roles.

My colors are catching to ward my fright, and catch sight. Flying free in my second life. Light and life bid me stay, despite my short heyday. I exist to pass the torch, I just happen to inspire in a way that's admired.