Bird at my Window

Here's a little bird by my window.

How he landed here I do not know.

I can't understand why he paused from winging,

then a-lighted here upon my contemplative feeling

while I sip darjeeling.

Now as I don't know why a caged bird would sing,

so do I not comprehend why some free bird should fling

himself against this glass invisible thing.

Bird at my Window

Now as I watch him here, while I am sitting,

and I do ponder on his fretful flitting,

I know not what fate my future life might bring

can't foresee what stones some enemy might sling

nor anticipate what news some fateful bell will ring.

I don't know what pesky thing

might attach itself to me to cling

to bet against my errant dealing,

or abscond my precious, hard-earned bling.

For all I know, someday Life may send me reeling;

I might even bang my head upon the ceiling,

like my bird friend at this window reeling.

But after a while, being a human being,

I'd certainly seek some healing,

Surely I would pray, even kneeling,

to shed my stubborn sins and fears, like onion peeling.

Unto merciful God I'll someday be appealing;

T'is then I'll beat my head upon some heavenly window,

when to eternity's grand dwelling I will go.

Like this wacky bird with such stubborn sass,

I'll knock my head on heaven's glass.

Let me in.

Let me in!

Bird at my Window

Glass half-Full