Forgotten light

 What ails the silent call of day
Whilst the birds still sing

Nearing winter Delighted bees ,
that correspondence of the spring

Had due flowers forgotten light

The skies they overhang with grey And sit below what’s sheltered

As a shadowed darkened day

For any season in comparison Would so recall that silent form

And in the light of every sun
Make great timing within its warmth

Seasonings of floral print would fabricate That livened air

And come not with sad born feathers But songs of likeness there

Alive in triumphant poise
The noises can be heard as still

The sounds of a morning bright Those birds and always will

Once words embedding come as winter Fluffed with feathers chill

Who shall call the light of sun
Those birds and always will.