The Songbird’s flight, floating on the breeze,
Soaring high above valleys, fields, and trees.
Skies looking dark ahead, a bolt of light or two,
Gentle breeze turns to winds, a storm is a brew.
Gales gusting, from all directions, with such a force,
She, while others sought shelter, stays her coarse.
Tossed, turned, and flipped, she battles the eye,
Feathers ruffed, breath sparse, still finding strength to fly.
Thoughts of wonder race through her mind,
Of the sky, once blue, breeze whispering of kind.
Why the good Lord would place such an awful storm,
Between her and the acre of wood she knew as home.
But, looking ahead, the air starts to clear,
Winds calming, hearing faint thunder to rear.
Sun peaking through clouds, rays shining bright,
Weary from torment, her home is in sight.
She reaches her branch, heart heavy with sadness,
As she pears, the naked limb, what once was her nest.
Another victim of a raging storm’s passing,
Dreaming of a life-long Summer sun lasting.
A sigh, she floats down for more twigs and cones,
Hearing chirps, her heart lifts to find she’s not alone.
Jays and Robbins, both jacks and hens,
Gathering foliage to help rebuild again.
Time, it will take to heal wounds of the heart,
Some storms are slight, others tear you apart.
One thing is for sure, with family and friends,
The flight of a Songbird, her songs will be heard again.


J.G.W.
12/13/07