Snow Bird
Invisible in the flakes
Of a white world
Waiting for the spring to spark a change
And the winter’s heart to succumb
To a flaming savior’s wings.
Though, wouldn’t it be fine,
For a fire’s wretched feather
To bring the land’s demise?
On each, the Snow Bird thinks,
For every minute’s precious gift;
To deny it would be as just.
And it sings,
In each choice no mind is paid,
It only dreams of new life
For either way,
He shall be set free
And a white peace
shall be made.