One morning a small bird perched in a tree opened its eyes at daybreak, parted his beak and began to sing...
It began with Tweet and went on like that, for a while... Little bird one, could really sing!
His story goes...
Soon, another bird opened its tiny eyes and its little beak and sang a different daybreak song...
His story goes...
"I have longed,
A third little bird, who sat on his limb awake, had heard the other two and the crickets, but he remained silent. Things were very different for him.
His story goes... Silent!
On that day, a sad song was in his heart, nary a warble could escape his throat! What his heart felt was more a 'mourning' song, at the break of day!
Strummings... within him were notes, forlorn... it gripped and kept his eyes, closed... and his beak, still and thin!
The dry summer grasses, rushed over him in his quiet reverie, with shhhhh, shhhhh sounds... sea grasses can whisper such, to reach a life within!
Contemplation is born that way! Little bird knew that, as his contemplations occurred, again...day by day!
Rustling grass would echo off the canyon at nightfall, then the dawn again, would break! "Shhhhh..." would whisper, at the rushings... "Shhhhh," as it traveled, through the trees...
Sound bounces off the grit... moves inevitably, toward the sea... little bird three had a missive...To be one with life, "help me," he called in silence, "please!"
On this day, deeply aware of those movements in sand, grass, tree and sky... little bird three, within minutes, forgot he was sad, and let his melancholia...fly free!
He had stirrings 'bout God and man, earth and birds, wherever they might be!
For reasons unknown... with such stirrings, he always felt that special need... "Wing tips... arise!"
Lifting his eyes and wings to try, again, at life... He no longer contemplated his sadness from the tree!
But, then suddenly... He stopped, he heard... An open, plaintive, oh, so chilling plea!
"Tweet! Tweet! Tweet..." Little third bird, a Lark, finally mumbled his surprise...
"I love to sing
... My way!
"...Tweet! Tweet! Tweet!"
That sits on me!
It asks me...
"Tweet! Tweet! Tweet..."
Yes, there are
One must always obey!
Little bird continued...
To my Sun,
I must arise!
I'll go high
The little Lark, sang his song, his special way...closing the blackness in his eye!
Blinking back his sorrow, the cry...echoing inside. So much strummed in his heart... that day!
Contemplation flew, as it didn't have so much to say...it would do that, now and again...for it was fickle,
Contemplations never stay!
With the glint
In his eye...
Little bird saw...
Wind and mist!
Then, he sighed...
For, little bird
Gripping a thing,
Not yet lifeless.
Poor little mouse, alas, closed sad eyes. Food for one, it knew, on its very last day.
Eagle saw the little Lark, perched, on that solid branch...he'd crossed the eagle's gaze. But 8 eyes joined to witness the others, 6 birds sat still, 1 flew, 12 eyes looked amazed!
But, just four birds, held fast!
Eagle flapped his wings, left his perch, to end a sojourner's repass... turned rigid to the west...with his mouse, rigidity held fast, within his talons' grasp!
He dropped the wing tip and angled a look, again, he floated back...he wanted to visit with that golden duck he seen. Hoped once more to track it, spreading wings flat!
He saw the bobbings of the owl's head...It bobbed, then gently swayed...and he saw, the Lark...sat on a squatting tree, with gnarled knots all crazed.
The gnarled tree hatched surprise... when it morphed some twigs and leaves, to cover Lark in his branch...the tree disguised him, protecting him from the eagle's plot...with moss, nuts and squirrel fur...adding gentle sweeps of green. It turned into a microbial haze!
"Skreeeech," called out the barn owl... "Eagle is not gone..." But, stealth was eagle's friend... he landed... In a small ravine!
With the rising sun he rested, behind a giant rock... In a shadowy nest, he rested... and watched a rising flock!
So, finally, little Lark flew... his way! He lifted curled wings, soared up high. Enchantments, he sought... berries on a vine... twirlings... angling for all that, he would try.
Aloft and tracking him, was eagle with his golden eyes... Yes, he'd caught the downward troughs and sought to tease, then capture... little lark's...slightest pride!
Eagle saw the gentle swoops, then echoed his comment throughout the land...
When chirps from little one's longing sounded, eagle's laughter spun into a mischievous plan.
Little bird one and little bird two had long flown toward the horizon and the cracking sun.
But, little bird three, breezed far behind them... singing his solitary song!
All, were in the watchful eyes of the goldens ... who trailed them a mile behind!
Down on earth,
Down on earth,
Blinking a sigh.
In a very
The mouse, bird grasped... held on, as the owl headed down... was loosened at the final, Eagle thumped upon the ground.
Crickets stopped their chirping, mouse did limp away... Hunter packed his rifle... Lark was near the bay!
... As he
And little Lark, sadly, said... "Goodbye!"
From across the bay...
Another beauty, turned... blinked, then closed its golden eyes! Surely, it made a difference... No ducks were on the rise!
It's sad, but true... these reckonings... They always make you think... Each day a difference hangs on thinking common sense?
One rarely knows the moment... Things in life will shift and stray... So, best to stay with tempos and fend....mindful of currents that might drift you straight away.
aka: Turquoise Cross