The Bird Lady of Ecclesall Woods

Her whisper gentle like the summer breeze Calls a passing sparrow lonely and shy, One that had escaped the northerly bise Intoxicated from flying too high. A welcoming hand held out a surprise While a tranquil voice hints of sweet meadows, Orchestration of each golden sunrise Her kindly eyes destroy fearsome shadows. This tiny bird in need of a dear friend Feasts and sups unafraid of humankind, The two of them breach the regular trend With eyes wide open although both are blind. Adverse to prejudice tis plain to see If everyone made a friend this the key. © Harry J Horsman 2015