A Little Bird

There behind a little bird he ran wherever to she flew.
Over meadows as she flew, she looked free as itself the air.
Such freedom he wondered if it just was too good to be true.

By the river, used to live a hawk so scary in its lair.
Deeming her the filling feast, that frightful bird on her eyes laid.
Swooped it out with talons sharp to torment and her flesh to tear.

“Evil bird, what hast thou done,” the fallen bird he rushed to aid.
Racing, chasing that vile raptor, to rescue his bird he reached.
Kneeling down with visage blue, he found bedewed her plumage red.

Taken home to heal the wings, she didn’t move; not in the least.
“Lord above, o’ save this bird, without thy grace, about to die,”
hands thrown up, eyes full of tears, the lord of heaven he beseeched.

Moved the bird; seemed prayers heard, for god did then answer his cry.
Rejoiced the man, took her in hand, helped her drink and brought her food.
Healed as she with passing days, her wish was but again to fly.

Fearing for her life the man, though, caged her up for her own good.
Nothing could she do to buy her freedom from that evil man.
Pecked around; she voiced her woes in shrilling tone, dejected mood.

Shrilling cries would pierce his ears, would rend his heart her face so wan.
Yet anything, but unlocking the cage seemed he would do fain.
When he couldn’t bear it longer, facing her he thus began,

“Philomel, now, cease thy wails. What sorrows thee sorrows us twain.
None but just the lonely heart knows soon I’ll suffer without thee.
Spread thy wings. I free thee now. I’ll let my heart from eyes now rain.”

Behind the bird again he ran where the flight took her to see.
Over meadows as she flew, she looked free as itself the air.
Again he wondered if now she, as it seemed, was truly free.