Silent Song

Blackbird sitting in the dead ash tree; He's the only blackbird I can see. Stare, Blackbird, I will stare; Something about you pertains to me. The brightest spring I've ever seen: Blossoms white as milk, or cream. I never thought the grass, I'd miss; Now, I gaze upon the emerald bliss. Sheltered by the bluebird sky, What should chance To catch my eye? A lonely blackbird, calm and still; I watch him from my windowsill. Birds of a feather flock together? Not this one, not this bird With a different song that needs To be heard. One blackbird In the dead tree, Alone, He's the most free. Perched tall on limb so tranquil, proud, I draw him out From feathered crowd. When I wake, I hear his voice; Lonely blackbird makes his choice. Uniqueness Holding my respect, I wonder of his intellect. Of all the things he thinks he knows, Stern isolation Is what shows. If every bird doth hatch the same, For another who's to blame? All blackbirds sing among the green, But one stands tall In branches lean. I watch this bird alone For hours, Pond'ring segregation powers. Some say laws dictate behavior, Yet I prefer to call On nature.