A Whitewing's Song

High in the tree, on the topmost branch, Eying the cool liquid below, She starts to sing as morning begins, And the south wind begins to blow. In the cool of the morning, as the sun climbs the sky, Her bitter sweet song fills the air. So very sad, it makes you want to cry, So much that you wish her sorrow she'd share. Amidst yellow blossoms, she welcomes the day, Her song mournful and always sublime. Just as she has with each morning's new rays, Since the beginning of time. She pours out her heart, to all who will hear, But only she knows in her heart, What sorrow she carries, why she sings so sweet, And what message she tries to impart. 3/10/14 Alton Texas