The Bird


A glimpse so brief, a most fugacious blur,

engraved so deep in mind, I lie thee not,

amidst the green, with awe I saw the bird,

in tones of red and gold when flaming hot,

so swift on flight, the wings in graceful sway.

In truth all things of nature held their breath,

the flies and crickets did no sound that day,

as if they slept or maybe danc'd with death,

and there I was, a child, awake i'm sure,

so keen yet not relying on my eyes,

recalling chants and tales indeed obscure,

that once I heard from lips so old and wise.


The story with the bear that drinks the rain,

and seven stars that ride behind a crane.

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Taken on November 15, 2010