When you're a sparrow, still chirp--and fly high.
šļøššļøššļø
Amid November's frost
The trees still stand
Their leaves still applaud
The blowing wind.
šļøššļøššļø
On a tree's branch
A sparrow chirps--soft, unsure,
Its sound unclear
But loud enough
For lost ears.
šļøššļøššļø
None heralds the sparrow's chirp.
None applauds its dull, brown wings.
It does not twitter for glory,
But sings softly.
šļøššļøššļø
The sparrow flies,
Wings against wind.
Its song mingles
With frost-covered leaves---
A path in the dark.
šļøššļøššļø
Behind the forceful black crow
A single sparrow flies
Its dull, brown head tipped
But held high
As it spreads its wings.
šļøššļøššļø
Original poem by Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin. AI tags are coincidental.
A frosty November write for Mike's November Challenge:
About the Creator
Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin
Hi, i am an English Language teacher cum freelance writer with a taste for pets, prose and poetry. When I'm not writing my heart out, I'm playing with my three dogs, Zorra, Cloudy and Snowball.
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