“Who knows? Perhaps the same bird
echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening.”
Little bird of gold
Why do you never fly?
How can you sit so bold
With gathering storms in sky?
I’m awaiting the sun
For he never fails to visit me
Very soon he’ll come
Sit and wait, you’ll see
But are the storms worth the light?
My doubt was very plain
Little bird, suffering in my sight
It didn’t seem quite sane
Oh yes! Every moment of the storm is worth his rays
Wait for the clouds to pass, And I’ll sing a song
What’s suffering compared to his warmth upon my face?
He’ll hear my call dear, it shan’t be long
And sure enough she began to sing
The winds and rain did cease
I found a small hope upon which to cling
Oh let the sun come for her, please!
And it was as if the heavens broke
The light was blinding to behold
Then I heard the sun as he spoke
It was all as I’d been told
He wrapped the small lovely dove
In golds of the brightest hue
The storms had been worth his love
Her words had proven true.