On Listening to a Songbird Sing on a Rainy Day
Third day of spring brings clouds
Dampness hangs in the air
Cold air chills the bones and the soul
My body craves warmth
For I am frozen to the marrow
Soon I pause to hear a small chirp
A tiny minstrel sits outside the window
His chirp becomes song
And the sound becomes like the sun
As the notes of nature paint a gray sky
The brightest shade of blue
I close my eyes softly
Listening to the thawing of my own heart.
