ODE TO THE SONG BIRD - Part 1

On a clear day early in the morning she sweeps across the plain eyeing for a grain

On the wing sweet melody she sings bidding kindred: " Come fly with me, make full your picking before the coming of the rain.

The sparrow, the songbird of renown, tiny might she be, can fill

meadows and forests with her symphonic theme.

When the sun goes down and shadows fall upon the fields she tweets her bid for home: the black forests on the hill.

In the still of the night in her nest she would dream of a clear tomorrow wishing for abundance on the plain.

But then one day when her wings she flaps for another flight upon the fields not a glitter of golden grain she could see: for a coming storm obscured the sun; it's rays blunted by blackened clouds.

When finally the storm came flapping its own wings lashing at her home on a tamarind, portending another day of want and even more her hopes dimmed.

Forthwith our sparrow tweets her shrillest, eeriest cry: " Take care, kindred! Seek ye the nearest hollow you can find. There await the passing of the storm and then the fields we scan again for our beloved grain."

By: SANO UNIVERSO for her beloved departed daughter