Snowbird
Snowbird
Time to sit and ponder life is gone,
Age does pass too swiftly by, vanished
Into what was once a vision thus prolonged
In the ripple of a stream so still;
And well would seem our life’s vestige
No more and no less then we would deserve
But that we could have another day, or maybe two...
Alas this saddened life’s repose
For in memory soft and ever still
A snowbird long to the wind,
As the dream once held inside
That is now so swiftly gone;
Yet oh the mortal word would seem
From our own souls a dream,
It was the grass born of sky so blue
That now lays hidden beneath the snow
Thence would come in time the spring
And with it bring the storms,
In an early morning soft and still
Came those howling winds;
Still from the uproar hear a far off call
I think 'twas of a snowbird
In the eyes to soar the clear blue heavens
To the ear its gentle song
By M. Norton
Copyright © Mark Norton | Year Posted 2010
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