Blue Bird

The blue bird sings a silent song
To hear her some do leap and dance
While others throw their coins away
On games of luck and whims of chance

Some hear the song a summer night
When crickets trill and lovers sigh
But those are only future echoes
Of grief unbound and dreams awry

The song is tranquil, brazen, noble
At times a note off key
Scoops plunder from a buried treasure
Then begins the Jubilee –

I keep my blue bird on a shelf
To hear the strains, richly lyrical
For when they chance to flow and resound
From every daily ritual

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