A word on a bird

There was a little bird who coo'd a little coo.
She looked at  a thing and said, I can do this too.
Her motives were pure,
her footing was sure.
And so, she began, without much a do.

Her passion and her love became her drive;
her choice was never settle, always strive.
With talent and with flair,
over bump and scare
her path became the form that she did contrive.

A tin-man and a lion; a hatter and a hare:
Friends came her way for whom she came to care.
The yellow brick road,
together, they strode,
forming an ensemble rather rare.

The little bird grew to be quite unique.
Along with her mind, grew her mystique.
And so the ensemble
did trudge and rumble,
all the while, the bird guiding their clique.

Time marches on with a sure and steady pace.
The bird found herself in many a race.
And she won them all;
stood proud and tall;
vanquishing every challenge she would face.

This isn't quite where the story ends
for the road is long as it bumps and bends.
Consider it good luck
if in your life amuck
you get to meet this bird and perhaps become friends.