Finely Spun Gold
Out on a limb
a small bird sits
As the wind blows cold
from the north
the bird begins to sing
Winter sun above
in this waning time of
the year
there are not many birds
singing
in this or any other garden
However, this small bird sings
as laughing voices
in the far distance
are blown by the breeze
the small bird sings
piping with its small voice
And as the ground grows cold
we take what comfort we can
In the waning of the year
a small bird sings
piping with its small voice
Clouds are forming in the sky
the wind blows them closer
As we anticipate another cold day
as a small bird sings
piping with its small voice
sweet sounds to welcome us
before the freeze sets in
Copyright © Matthew Anish | Year Posted 2006
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