Somewhere high up in the trees
Under a canvas of midnight and laughing stars
His music dreams on a moss covered bough

He is my friend and has always been
Known by everyone during the day
And by the setting sun he is forgotten

Huddled safely in that lofty place of his
Feathers ruffled against the subtle breeze
He waits for dawn in the rustling foliage

And when the sky is aflame
With the breath of a new day’s morning
He will sing again in those precious tones

And we, those of us who had forgotten
In that day will remember him
And in his songs
We will remember what it means to be alive.