The Leaves on the Branches (Flutter Like the Feathers on Her Wings) -4/28/05

So delicate the talons on the toes
That grip the branch and gently rest a while,
For though these wings have traveled many roads,
Before the winter there’s still many a mile.

Sweet Peregrine, I cannot go your way:
My roots run deep, oh little trav’ler bright.
I have not eyes, nor hands, nor feet, nor face;
I think, however, that, with you, I might.

Oh Love’s a ringing, Love’s a ling’ring song
That makes me writhe and try to follow you.
It echoes still when you’ve been gone so long:
A sad refrain of your departing tune.

“Why does the oak so eager rock and sway
At calling of one little bird?” They say.