The sky holds its rain
while wind sifts the boughs,
shrouded in dark feathers
you cry to me your song
of words thought to be forgotten;
with your crown of vines
twisted in your melancholy nest,
you permeate my thoughts
with deep forest scent
and quiet, heavy clouds
bearing me closer to your wings,
finding myself nearer to your voice,
yet peaceful in a moment of sorrow