Nightingale dances to a union jack's tune
Blonded and bonded to the winter wind's croon
Black leather lost, soul-searching for safe havens
Soothing the streetlight as she serenades,
Healing the moonlight as her honeymoon fades.

In flocks, it is said,
That safety will travel
And numbers protect those that fly,
But the heart, indeed, is a lonely hunter
So land your weary arms in mine.

You can return with the swallows to Capistrano
Or follow the flamingos as they swoon and sail
You can hang onto a hummingbird's heartbeat,
Just wrap me in the wings of this nightingale.

It's the lark, that's true,
That sent me to you -
Nursing the daylight until it flutters then soars,
Nestling the twilight by the hospital doors.

In the dark, it is said
That the truth hangs lower,
And slower move the birds in time
So un-tether from your trembling sadness,
And land your weary arms in mine.

You can sing the songbird's symphony
Or fleece the  feathers off a sparrows tail
You can hang onto a hummingbird's heartbeat,
Just wrap me in the wings of this nightingale.

10,000 years ago,
Before bridges were built
and bombs were blown and flown
in the azure sky,
a man could humbly hold his heart in his hands
and his hands to the sky and
and scream for rain to drown him -
or teach him to swim.

How did we get here, you and I?
Through sleeping and waking,
or beating and ******
the land that we plowed and sowed together?
Or am I just thinking aloud and insane
to believe that sorrow and pain
have a reason to be on the the globe,
or in my tiny little heart.