The bird sings
To the sun
Acclamations
As it prays
And builds
Itself a nest,
He then flies
Through the trees
And around
the branches
Like a circus
gymnast
Dressed in
tight colors
Just to dive up
Around the sea
Of Leafs until
He finds himself
Souring through
The clouds,
Close enough
To the sunset,
Praising the
Tints of orange
And reds
Running through
What we
could call
Personified life,
He then
sings again,
One last
time for the day,
Before twilight
Reigns the sky
With constellations
Of stars that are too
Far to hear the singing
Or the crying or
The laughter.