a bird and a boy

one day as a boy I went down to the sea clambered o'er rocks way out to the bluff stopping to search in a tide pool for shells senses awakened by strong briny smells warming, the zephyr was gentle enough yawning in promise the sun winked at me descending a crag and reaching the shore I found my prized seat there on an old log wriggling my toes to delve deep, the sand pledging the treasure of shells in my hand that sunlight and wind would scatter the fog and thawing, I took off the sweatshirt I wore 'twas then that I spotted a bird, scarlet red a Card’nal, and male with exquisite feather perched on a snow fence abutting the dunes greeting the day with the saddest of tunes below in the grasses ringed by the heather lay one female Cardinal … silenced and dead I stayed there all day observing that sight the male with a canticle pleading his mate a sorrow and agony poured from that bird as mournful a song as these ears ever heard I stayed there 'til dusk, the sun bowing late and still he continued deep into the night I went back each morning to hear that bird sing thus crooning all day for his dear love to rise the rest of the summer and even years hence with endless devotion he trilled on that fence and tho' one sad spring he departed the skies I watched evermore for red birds on the wing well ... I'm old now and weary but here's an odd thing: when winter relents and the warm mistrals bring a breeze with bouquets of hopes for the spring as I'm biding the dark arm of slumber to cling though it's often dismissed I so swear through the mist ‘midst the eve, heaven-kissed that I still … hear … him … sing. ~ for Walt Whitman ~