Little Bird Poem by John Rickell

Dedicated, little bird
and unashamed to dream
years, few and fleeting
flit before me as I stroll.
You guide or guard; I free to roam
in this, I call my wood
where I retreat to dream as you.
You are loyal each time I call
call me when I wander
gently keep me to the path;
the dark heart of the wood is yours
to share it with your friends.
I hear them through this morning's fog,
rooks, black silhouettes and still
high in the pines and larches
threat us both and make me shiver.
When spring comes take care, keep ‘wake,
wait the shoots and leaves,
choose with care, as always,
weave your nest and line with fur.
I shall call when summer shines
guard as you do me......
seek your children and your mate
and fright away those rooks.