Saturday, 4 October 2008


Free at Last

The door was left open,
I yearned to be free.
I hopped to the doorway,
Cocked my head to see;
The window was open
A breeze cooled my head
I heard a finch singing
"Here's freedom," he said.

With no further caution,
I flew to the sill.
I slipped through the op'ning,
Borne up by the thrill.
The clear sky above me,
Sweet meadows below,
Zephyrs around me,
I heard a cock crow.

I lit on an oak tree.
Heart beat in my chest.
My wings were still feeble,
I needed a rest.
The finch stopped his rondo.
I swelled up with pride,
My song became solo.
I sang for my bride.

Each chirrup and cadence,
Melodious phrase,
Expanded to warm me.
Oh joy of my days!
I sang sweet deler'ums
From my prominent perch,
The hawk found it easy
To narrow his search.

No other bird sang
As the shadow passed o'er
I thought them entranced
By my glorious score
The shock of the snatch
Took my last notes away
My freedom was lost
On that marvelous day.

Would I hop through the window
And sing in the tree,
Knowing the perils there are for the free?
My answer, at once, from my beak opened wide,
At least I knew joy at the moment I died.

This is actually the eyes of an Eagle Owl, photographed at
a recent country show, but I couldn't resist using it to illustrate this verse.


Gallinago said...

And I presume that no canaries actually met their demise in the making of this poem?

Christine B said...

Thankfully I gather not - but spare a thought for the preditor with the canary sized gap in his stomach!!!

Mavis Moog said...

This is how I stop myself feeling guilty about keeping a canary. If I let him go he would die. So I have to keep him, and let him sing his little heart out for my pleasure.