Song of the Wren

A solitary wren upon a bough

Above my head began to sing for me.

He looked so deeply in my eyes I thought

Is this a bird or a departed soul

Come back to visit at the dusk of day?

This wonder of speckled brown that sweetly trilled

Invited me in turn to make reply.

Thanking him for his gifts I sang to him

A poorer imitation of his song

And back and forth in the slowly fading light

Our music echoed across the silent lake.

Then suddenly another voice began

And turning around my friend began to sing

To his fair love the tune he sang for me.