Wisdom of the Wind

There is a little bird
Who sings
To the morning wind
Her heart is such
A delicate thing
Though lonelyness lends
It's chilling hush
Spreading wings
Welcoming
Death, a friend

There is a little bird
Who, when leaving, brings
A sharp pin
Through thine own heart
Silencing the wind
Who turned it's back this day
To mourn her through the night
Impaling her precious song
Against it's breast

Never to let one single ear rest
Forever pressed against
The Earth
Weeping more than Willow trees
Upon the roots of legacy
Crying softly for the voice of eloquence
As the rain falls down again

For no one, other than the wind,
Ever heard
This little bird