The sun was out and so were we.
The conversation meandered past my ears.
Amidst the children’s shouts arose another sound.
Gradually we stopped and listened.
As we silenced, he crescendo-ed.
We sought him out and his voice drew the eye.
Perched on the conifer top.
Basking his bright beak in the sun.
He sang from the depth of his tiny body.
Performing his aria for our audience.
His voice leapt from his yellow beak
and took flight towards our ears.
It soared and dropped
And twisted fro and to.
Encompassing his passion and joy.
He knew every note on every stave.
He shared them all with us.
We were in awe. It was beautiful.
The next day the black flutter caught my eye.
I went to see what I thought I knew.
He lay quiet and still in the road.
Eyes open yet opaque, beak bright but closed.
It may have been the loss of a friend
but I cried for the little soul.
Now that his song had gone.