Gray bird, fly where else?
Your wings a-flutter, with grace, no less.
Your plumage rich with stripes of light
Skims soft on wind where on you alight
Pray tell how you keep peace?
In flight, how are you not amiss?
Your wings carefully tread the wind
Ever so slight, is he not a fiend?
When storms arise, and winds turn cruel
How do you seek and avoid the duel?
How can you not be frightened of the cold?
Of biting chill and eerie frost? How bold.
How, when heat turns manifold?
Dried up streams and rivulets, behold?
Does the hard beak turn hot in soar?
Do the hot earth your talons ignore?
Do you not hide and succumb in fear?
How soon will your songs I hear?
The merriment feels long gone
Yet the sentiments linger, dusk ‘til dawn.
Grievances carry on, in my lacking of you
Withered in silence, more silent my heart grew
The playfulness of the morn, now is lost
The darkness now lingers, in me only lasts frost
Sorrow in spring, autumn, and in fall
Now that winter has conquered them all
Will I ever hear the joy of tune in you
And kiss my heart to rejoice anew?
When do I see you again, gray bird of joy?
Your gray feathers rustle, deploy?
When will you step on the wind again
And strike happiness, not in vain?
I hope to see the skies do mourn its loss
And all the lands you flew over and across
The branches and rocks your feet alit
May your wings forever flit