The New Bird

09 March 2019

The idea waits upon a bough.
The bird is in the parlor though.
Tomorrow never comes for us,
and so he sings for now.

But over in the city though
the trees all stand erect,
where there is no sought communion
and the love is all in trust.

I do not speak for them,
and only know the words I know.
But for who would still hear,
I have endeavored to show how.

--

Idea waits upon a bough.
The bird is in the parlor though.
Tomorrow has not come,
and so he sings for now.

But over in the city now,
the steel trees stand erect,
and there is no more communion
where all love is held in trust.

The song is not for those
who sing of things one cannot know.
The new bird sings, alas!
for those who have no other sound.