That bird that once sat within the tree
January Wind, a cold fellow
Often brings us rain and snow
The bird that nests within the tree
Contemplates its destiny
Thou driven wind of Autumn’s breath
Passing through years end at best
Transparent hush of voices heard
Guiding beacon to the migrating bird
Below the world scrambles by
Only colours from the sky
Blues and Greens and yellow lights
Which burn the brightest , it seems at night
Soon the moon will rise a new
Casting shadows that stick like glue
The migrating bird, will come back to sing
Reminding us that it is Spring.
That bird that once sat within the tree
Blows his trumpet of prophecy.
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