Each morning I am treated
To a concert of rare charm.
A bird sits on my fence
And acts as my alarm.
Suited in shiny black,
Bright yellow beak and eyes,
With such a dapper appearance,
His singing is no surprise.
He wakes me up each morning
With a varied repertoire.
Never repeating a tune
He sings for over an hour.
I wake one morning – silence.
No song to start my day.
Has he met with a tragic end,
Or simply moved away?
My mornings are not the same,
It takes me longer to rise.
The radio cannot compete
With that talented friend of mine.
Day after day, I miss him,
Would that he could come back.
Wait, is that his song,
My opera star in black?
I peer out the window, he’s there!
But look, he’s missing a limb!
What a battle there must have been
To cause a hurt so grim.
What a soldier, what a hero,
What a battle he must have survived.
Such strength, such courage, such fortitude
To find joy in just being alive.