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