Life By Birds
At her birth, the morning lark
fan-tailed light and thrushed through dark.
As she grew, the sparrow's song
lofted high. Her life flew long.
In her descent the crows would caw
and dimly raven shapes she saw.
The shroud then loomed, downy pale,
wings swept in, Death, the nightingale.
poem by Glenn Bagshaw
Added by Poetry Lover
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