Microraptor from Antiquasauria by Ian Cooke

When you're small, you learn it all in the trees,
hiding from things who see you as something to eat.

Dawn of Cretaceous took a strange step on the path of evolution.
I've been given four fine-feathered wings - one on each limb - to be a tiny gliding thief.

But on the ground, I can't get around very well
with the wings on my legs; they make things pretty tough.

Safe in a tree, they'll never get us - not here - not in a million.
Not by the midnight rainbow diamond of my tail or the setting sun!

Future days will fossilize my feathers and their pigment cells of iridescent black.

Sources escape into the atmosphere; they lead to a better sight.
Lead to a life above the ones that hunt us, out of the clutches and bite.

Maybe I can catch myself an insect or a fish today. With luck, I'll get a bird.
Wouldn't mind a mammal for the death-defying dives I take but lizards are preferred.
Climbing high and gliding are my methods of surviving in the forests of Liaoning.
People will sing stories of our lives found in remains we leave behind.

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