Strong wings indeed you’d need,
You can’t land; have no two feet,
A much stronger will, you’d need to live,
Not two hoots, for care or pity give,
You’d think that one foot be better than none,
Especially if you’d the one,
But of course, better sure are two,
Would it be, much balancing you do?
There is this little tiny chick,
That has learned this neatest trick,
Her whole body hanging from a twig,
To hide her treats from others quick,
Circle Soleil would envy such a feat,
Such an acrobat would meet,
I know of one, I call her peg,
This darling, to my hand I beg,
This tiniest sweet so precious bird,
By a bullet it was hurt,
Mean and ruthless youth with gun,
Thought it sport and manly fun,
Many sweet creatures were hurt that day,
From guns and youth at play,
It crushes my heart to see it suffer so,
So hard it tries to move to and fro,
It crash lands on my hand more than once or twice,
Though it knows that there it’s safe, I see it in its eyes,
Today we spend much time, just her and me,
No other birds, did we near us see,
Walnuts, just for her, I had as a treat,
Happily, again, and again, she came to feed,
Starved she was, and so I stayed a while,
Could other joys me so beguile?
Hiding pieces in bark and branches tall,
Her acrobatics did me enthral,
God I thought what courage it must take,
To live such hardship life, for living sake
Such admiration, have I, for this tiny creature,
No hope was she taught, from friend, or preacher,
Such is a moment’s bliss,
To know someone like this,
A common bond, of being together,
Blessed moments, birds of a feather,
To share, she her courage, and beauty sweet,
And I, my heart, my hand, and tiny treat©03/12/2009
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