I was sitting under a cloud,
Singing my own song quietly to myself,
When suddenly a strange sound picked my ears,
Up I looked, to see a little bird,
Trilling to me gently from the sunlight.
Sweet little bird, I listened to its song.
A small shaft of sunlight shone through my cloud.
I smiled, for it brought me joy.
Like with like, I shared my own song,
With this strange, flitting being.
It ruffled out its feathers delightedly,
And whistled me borrowed songs.
I watched it contentedly skip and hop,
In tune with the music within.
Fleeting bird, it stayed too little,
For when I reached towards its feathers,
My hand passed through only air.
Ghostly wee sparrow,
Ever beyond my touch.


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