why do you sing
though no one’s about?
why do you chirp
your merry songs
even on your own?

it’s in my nature,
said the sparrow,
to sing when it’s time;
I just chirp when
it’s right


why do you bloom
though there are no eyes
to behold?
why do you come to being
though there’s never
a chance of being seen?


it’s the way of life,
says the flower,
as it flows in me;
I just come to fullness
when it’s right