The Whisper Bird
I heard a small bird whisper from its perch upon a branch,
And I thought the chance remark was aimed at me;
There was not another soul, for such thoughtful hyperbole,
Well truth to say t’was not as I could see.
‘I know you mean it from your heart; I see it on your face,
But leave us simple woodland folk in peace:
For we live without disgrace; it is nature sets our pace;
And it’s nature who’ll decide when we shall cease.’
Could it mean the sins of man I thought had set me free?
As I wondered if the small bird had a point;
As its words flew as do thoughts, I understood quite true,
That woodland folk are not like you and me.
I left the woods disgraced by the folk of human race,
With their pesticides, their venom and their greed;
And I wandered home forlorn, cursed the day that I was born,
Surely better I was born of woodland seed.
We Are Not Alone in Meadows, Dear
We are not alone in the forest, dear,
It only seems to be;
We share it with the many folk,
The ones we cannot see.
Their forest ways are not our ways,
They read the sounds and breeze,
Their song the rain and babbling brook;
Their homes are where they please.
We are not alone in the meadows, dear,
So dream and whisper low,
And little folk now out of sight,
Shall watch us as we go.
The meadow ways are not our ways,
Their way of life not ours,
They play and sleep in river reeds,
And dream among the flowers.
We are not alone on river banks,
It cannot set us free;
For we are guests and they are hosts,
To what we’ll never be:
So when you leave your whimsy thoughts,
And merry go your way,
Remember all these woodland folk,
And the thoughts they cannot say.