I sat one morning listening to the singing of birds the other day,
they sang in the distance, a song I knew very well,
but the words escape me as I sat attentively listening,
to them chirping to a tune they knew only too well.
The song of searching for a time when they could sing
together about the countries they’ve seen, about the food
they’ve tasted. It didn’t matter where it was, as long as it was
a place where the season didn’t change to cold.
They sang a song of longing and they sang and they sang.
I didn’t know of what but they knew and they sang.
Was it of melancholy or was it of countries they wanted to go to?
Again I didn’t know the answer, only they knew and they sang
a song they had sung a million times over of places they’d travelled to
and of those they hoped to see. It didn’t matter where they went,
it didn’t seem to stir them, for they sang and they sang on this mild
(c) nature thoughts nw
(I know of Anchor through my YouTube brother, Josh, from the Brothers Green Eats)