Dirge

Within its throat

A songbird chokes up a somber note

While perched high upon a dying limb

Beneath a winter morning cloak

 Under a heavy heart

And heavy wings

 By nature  its given as its charge

A dirge to sing

Far from the falsetto of its awakening cheer

Trilling at my window it would often appear

In deep dejection and reluctantly

It chooses its song in D minor key

The saddest key of them all to me

And with a thump!

Dead it falls  to the ground

Of all its songs come early morning round

Perhaps, this is to me the saddest sound.