On A Drowned Magpie

Quite powerless to help it since I cannot swim And it's chances of survival to say the least slim It flapped it's wings desperately as it did drown In the river three miles from the big coastal town. On learning to fly into the river it did fall To survive like us birds do need luck after all A fact of mortality and facts do never lie Is like people birds too in their young lives do die. Quite powerless to help it with alarm in their cry The parent birds in circles above it did fly But their young one had stopped struggling in the water it lay A would be feathered minstrel in dark brown and gray. On bushes and trees the birds whistle and sing On this sunny and beautiful day in the Spring The dead magpie lay where the water is deep And Nature for her deceased never has tears to weep.