A Linnet Sings On A Spray

A Linnet Sings On A Spray

A linnet sings on a spray,
be the day bright or grey,
may its wings never wane on the way.

I have the brain of a bird,
I peck round for a word
that rings true, not banal or absurd.

A discarded verse, a ruled out line,
marks of the brevity I sought,
honed to the essence of my thought,
the attempts that failed,
till it was fine, I had it nailed.

A pyramid carved in stone,
from the root to the cone,
strange that it grew from one mind alone.

A linnet sings on a spray,
be the day bright or grey,
may its wings never wane on the way.

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