A peculiar little bird, quite fond of the warmth of
Summer flights,
Has been found perched on my branches
For quite a while
Singing.

A friend to most, quite dear to me,
This little bird
Attached his nest quite messily,
Then went around with evening's glee,
Flying.

A crooked fellow, he loved to sow
Sweet little seeds,
Happy to grow
In the bark, in the soil,
Everything always nurtured in joy,
Glowing.

Alas,
This winter, it seems the cold took you away,
How sad to see a tree with no song,
Left alone in decay.

At last,
When spring comes back around,
In the sway of leaves going round and round,
Like a choir singing along,
Perhaps will be heard another song.