Wednesday, February 21, 2007

A Dicky-Bird in February

A Dicky-bird sat in the Cherry tree,
one damp and dreary day.
Singing a song to the coming Spring,
And a song to brighten the way.

He twittered and warbled with hardly a care
for the piles of snow or the cloudy sky.
He carried Spring in that brave little breast
and sang, though the sun would hide.

He sang of the balmy breeze from the South,
of the swollen green buds on the trees,
and the melody of the waters' voice
when the brooks and rivers flow free.

He bubbled and chortled in highest glee
as he told of the first Spring flowers,
cheering the world with their brilliant hues
and bathing in sweet Spring-time showers.

He sang to his wife, in her sweet modest dress,
of the babies they'd raise in the Spring.
Of the bounty of insects to feed to their young,
and of teaching to fly and to sing.

He sang with such sweetness, and gusto and joy,
with his head tilted back and his beak in the air.
He gave thanks to his Maker, Creator and God,
As he sang that most beautiful prayer.

~ FaithAnn 2 – 20 – 07

3 comments:

Unknown said...

Very nice poem there. Yep, spring is comming. I was outside today and yesturday, and I thought it was summer.

Anonymous said...

That's really beautiful, Faith. I was trying to recognize which of my old favorite classic poets that was when I got to the end and read the author's name. It is the Lord himself that writes all the good ones. Thank you for letting him use your hand and heart to encourage us!

Anonymous said...

Thank you, Barak and Mrs. White, for your kind words! It is the truth that the LORD writes the good poems, and He surely wrote this one! I am glad it encouradged you, I was blessed as I was writing it.

To those who enjoy "the story behind the poem" - here is mine:
I was working in the sewing room, and had the window wide open enjoying the fresh air. Suddenly the Dicky-bird (otherwise known as a male House Finch:) landed in the tip-top of our Cherry tree just outside the window and began singing at the top of his lungs. The first three lines of the poem suddenly popped into my head, and grabbing a notebook and pencil, I started to write as fast as I could.
The rest, as they say, "Is HIS-story!"

Blessing,
FaithAnn