Small bird,
I hear you chirping
from the branches
of the spruce.
Your friend, the robin,
head cocked,
hunts worms
on the lawn.
You live in trust,
with a grace
I fail to muster.
You wait with faith
for the winter wind
to warm.
Like us,
you are programmed
to move forward,
through whatever comes.
I envy that
you're unaware
these times are grave.
Your voice is true,
a messenger
of earth and sky.
Owning only feathers,
you are happier than we.
Small bird,
sweet one,
teach me your song.
for Shay's Word List. I borrowed the closing lines from an earlier poem, because they fit.
I think our little birds flew together in some way today Sherry - I love the strength in those little birds
ReplyDeleteA lovely poem. I saw a robin today for the first time since last fall perched on a snow covered limb. A messenger, I think to let me know spring is coming. Small bird teach me your song of survivor.
ReplyDeleteThis poem is for the birds, in the best possible way! All the little birds scattered this morning because a great honking hawk showed up and settled into the neighbor's evergreen. he was huge! We can certainly learn from birds and nature.
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful, Sherry. I love the idea that birds live in trust, knowing that whatever the future they will keep singing and keep their faith in tomorrow.
ReplyDeleteIf only they could teach us their clear, pure song.
ReplyDelete