A fragile bird upon a stone,
She holds a shard of captured light.
Her troubled tail a shadow cast,
A restless storm of quiet fright.
She hears the chaos tear the air,
A bitter wind she tries to bear.
No helper brings a grain of peace,
Nor offers rest from long despair.
She turns her gaze from hollow tricks,
To watch the shining meadow glow.
A sign of hope in heavy times,
She waits for truth to overflow.
Though scorned and starved by passing days,
She dances through the gentle breeze.
A woven quilt of simple grace,
Beneath the green and troubled trees.
