I know the song within a captured bird,
A melancholy, rhythmic, beating heart
A breathless sound; foreboding in its start
It carries on the wind yet to be heard
An octave high and down; the cage is stirred,
For all who’ve come to rest and soon depart.
The wing is clipped, to some, a work of art.
Within, her captive song is not deterred.
If flight returns and ever lifts the soul;
If morning breaks forever or one day
Her song, relentless in its reaching beat
Arise, it will, to take her on its way.
As feathers fade, the Spring must be consoled
With heaven’s grace, both bird and song will meet.