Kneeling in a drift, in the Sunday morning air,

Tying a loosened lace with care,

I felt a gentle tremor in the air,

A fragile life descending from the boundless air.

 

A chimney swift, perhaps, or swallow swift,

Innocence in flight, a fleeting gift,

Or some other little bird, feathered, falling swith,

Then lies there, with snow upon its face, stiff.

 

Its tiny form, a testament to grace,

This frozen world its final resting place,

A creature small, with tiny, tattered wings, ice-laced,

Now still in the stillness of this sacred space.

 

The snowflakes danced around, a silent choir,

As I knelt beside the flightless flier,

To understand the mystery, to inquire,

Why this fragile life must now retire.

 

In that moment, nature's lesson unfurled,

A poignant tale of life in this cruel world,

The beauty, the fragility, and how they're twirled,

In the delicate dance of existence, swirled.

 

I gently cradled the fallen friend,

Whispered a prayer for its journey's end,

From these icy arms of winter, to transcend,

To a realm where all beginnings and endings blend.

 

©2017 William A. Smith