THE SONG

Almost hidden among the twigs,
The thrush at his chirruping fills the air with song:
Three poplar trees, the gardens where he digs,
This bridge, the railway track: how sweet and strong

That chirruping song embraces all, lifts all,
Brings to life, with his call, and answering calls
And echoes interweaving. A concert hall
Would be no match for this patch,
Arching the garden walls.

Like the song filling the sky,
Our life and deeds spread out in harmony
Bigger than we know. Wide and high
Our call, and answering calls, in symphony,
With echoes interweaving, zig-zag the walls;

Rousing other lives; answers everywhere;
What’s in our hearts sings out, to fill the air.