the birds in the trees sing so lovingly
as perfect as perfection while playing
while decorating the flowers with spring
so kind and so merciful as it pines
for lost innocence is a melody
while beautiful and nameless it is time
equal to its unwritten timelessness
as sense is to silence and silent reeds
the birds in the trees sing so beautifully
songs of a promise that birds always keep
sing in the morning at noon and sunset
sing to the sun in its climb over earth
be its voice when it reaches for its heart
be its lullaby and its morning song.
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