Music of the Birds
Dotting across page to
Page,
Page,
leaving marks of black and white,
Are birds of
Every color and nation and language.
The high trill of the sparrow
Purifies the silence of daybreak
And the beat of the eagle's wings
Thunders out the redwood drum.
Aimless tapping and tittering
Becomes the ink on the lines of a staff
Formed from the homes of the creators
And by the feathers upon their breasts.
Urban rhythms the doves warble out
The sounds of coo and who,
Whilst lighter melodies of hummingbirds
Sweetly stay in time.
While all of this surrounds us
We seek our love in music
But truly as a cardinal flies
It lies in every direction.
The high trill of the sparrow
Purifies the silence of daybreak
And the beat of the eagle's wings
Thunders out the redwood drum.
Aimless tapping and tittering
Becomes the ink on the lines of a staff
Formed from the homes of the creators
And by the feathers upon their breasts.
Urban rhythms the doves warble out
The sounds of coo and who,
Whilst lighter melodies of hummingbirds
Sweetly stay in time.
While all of this surrounds us
We seek our love in music
But truly as a cardinal flies
It lies in every direction.
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