December 14, 2018
Photo by Bruno
A Poem by Hilde Oleson
Ah, little birdie how you sing!
The depths of winter hanging low over your tree,
The boughs bent low by icy snow
You raise your head
And liquid fire flames out
The ice around our hearts melts
While the tree maintains its stoic pose
But you, the tiniest fragment on the tree
Pour out your hope,
Your cheery song that says
The winter may be long and cold
But we survived and life is good.
Ah, little birdie, how you sing.