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Consider.....

Little bird why is your song so bright

On this grey morning, when the trees are dead

And not a hint of welcoming sunlight

To warm us as we struggle out of bed?

Could it be your limited brain size

Does not have room to contemplate the way

Things might turn out, so that your spirits rise

And cheerfully give thanks for the new day

When all we see is weeks of steaming trains,

Cold blasts and irritation at the thought

Of all we must endure befoe the gains

Of late spring warmth and all last summer bought.

          You sing so me as if there were no need

          To take thought for the future and its seed.

Brian Hick Jan 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 11.1.23