Matthew Anish Poet Free verse

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

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