By sarah dragonfleyes@excite.com
Date: 22 January 2001
the bird who were singing
Maybe it was the birds who were singing
on that one gray day
not so far away
Who foretold of the coming sadness
in their warbling notes
and high pitched cries
I saw their shadows fall against the glass
with a flight of feathers
in the inclement weather
When one of their own fell, amidst the grass
in a pool of blood
in the thickened mud
Not so very long after that fell bird
his voice thickened
his hands grown thin
I remember the vaporous clouds hanging
in the fields that morning
as if foretelling
That a time would come when he would be no more
he would lie in the ground
without earthly sound
To keep him from the ones he knew while breathing
so now the bird lies fallen
out in the dampened garden
He weaps as gently death bids him
with memory passing forever more
with trees bowing limbs
and I, barren lying on Styx lean shore
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