The Blackbird
Black, black as coal, pit-fresh,
yet iridescent in the sun
as sunbeams dance across his wings,
belying red and green and blue.
The eye, forever searching, blinking,
looking down across a beak of gold;
watching for each morsel of food
that might lay hidden in the grass.
Singing sweet songs of freedom ---
echoes of Spring's last love ---
s melody that takes to flight,
singing, soaring, searching;
winging away at sunset
to arrive, fresh, at the next dawn.
© 1967 : Colin Gordon-Farleigh
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