A Sunday-poem from a blogger friend of mine:
I saw an Oriole come by.
Light, I thought, had learned to fly.
It seemed the sun had come to my garden
This morning, light winged, breast golden.
His song rang as bell rings clear
Whose charm pierces fleeing night, lingers
In heart’s ear but is too soon gone
While pale memory sips of sight and sound.
And I? I must wait till sun’s return
Who, had I had my way, would have preferred
He stay and sing and shine like my own sun
In my own sky for me, for me alone;
His other works wait in other places
And he must shine on other faces.
The sun will peaceful on my garden shine
But bright light’s song has with his going flown
So I must rise and I must tell that I saw :
The brightness of day where was none before.
I saw an Oriole leap to the sky
And so I know that light can fly.