The lonely bird,
Atop the lowly birch,
Amidst empty branch,
It's only perch.
The white sun's,
Blinding light,
Drowns solely,
The bird's plight.
In summer's dry,
Afternoon sings,
The winged life,
Yet it brings
Not a soul,
Only the fiery hole,
Atop it's lofty perch,
Bears witness
To the bird's cry,
From sanguine sky,
Listen and sigh,
What beneath lies....
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