Mechanical Aviator

In twilight's hush, where shadows play, A mechanical bird takes flight, With gears that turn and eyes of gray, It soars into the fading light. Its feathers, once so soft and bright, Now bronze and copper, strong and tight, It stands, a symbol of human might, A fusion of art and science's light. In autumn's hue, with leaves of gold, It perches, steadfast, young and old, A guardian of the seasons' sway, A sentinel in a world of decay. With every tick, a story's told, Of dreams and progress, young and bold, This mechanical bird, a marvel of art, A testament to the human heart.