Red-Winged Blackbird
Herald of the spring
My hibernating self stirs
When first it hears you sing

Tiny little sprouts within
Lift their weary heads
Towards the sun
The hope of life a struggle to begin

The earth warms, the wind blows
Skies blue and grass will green
And soon the summer garden
Now a glimmer will be seen


To Be A Bird

Ah, to be a bird
Tiny and light and finely feathered
Upwards with ease into flight
Into blue
Into oblivion
To sit in the trees as the wind makes her music
To soar within the rainbow and know the sun’s first light
After the cold dark night Continue reading