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The Lark.
With sun dipped wing
and feathers glossed,
about the tumbled sky
he's tossed.
Climbing, climbing
ever high,
until in wandering
eye he's lost.
Now less a speck
far side the cloud,
this tiny life whose
song falls loud.
Larks
Loud, the whole bunch! Enjoyed this flight.
Many thanks for commenting on
Many thanks for commenting on this, we had larks singing from dawn to dusk when I moved here, then the developers came, and slowly we lost them. They were just beginning to return but the developers are back again, they won't return this time as all their fields will be gone. So very sad.