Lovely, sweet bird, a light in the hollow:
clearly no fit, ever so fragile,
bright in the dust, dull under shadow…
such woeful sounds, dreadful song!
Why do you sing, oh ailing soul?
What do your melodies mean?
To what world do you belong,
oh little, light, brittle bird?
For whom do you cheerfully sing?
Ah that you may one day be free!
bright against the sky,
free wherever you alight,
bold without care to brighten the world…
May our world’s loss of you, be a grief averted!
Caelan Rowan McCuen 