I sit in isolation,
On the grass of an open field.
In my debilitated state,
I think of all that has happened.
A young bird lands,
On a tree branch near by.
As I watch the naive creature,
As it preens its feathers.
The grandeur of its innocence is captivating.

I sit and watch the little bird.
Quietly in silent homage I stare,
Until it decides to fly away.
When it comes time for the creature to fly off and return to its
colleagues,
Return to its commerce,
Return to its life,
It resigns from its perch,
And flies off into the peaceful sunset.

All while collaborating a sweet soothing lullaby,
With the gently blowing wind.
 
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