The Nightingale

Tiny bird in the highest tree

Shadows and silence surround thee

Hidden from view as the day wears on

While your wingèd companions twitter on the lawn

Head under wing, your silence prolongs

As the air is filled with mockingbird songs

The world passes by and you have not a care

Until the shrill notes disperse from the air

As the sun's harsh light descends from the skies

You stir, lift your head, and open your eyes

As the reverent moon rises in silence overhead

You flutter and leave your secluded bed

All at once, the silence is broken with song

Pure sweet notes in arias long

The world is still except for the sounds

Of your sweet melody in which beauty abounds

For solitude is your preferred venue

Only achieved in the evening's soft hue

For it's only after the mockingbirds fly

That the nightingale's song can be heard in the sky.