The Lark.

With sun dipped wing

and feathers glossed,

about the tumbled sky 

he's tossed.

Climbing, climbing

ever high,

until in wandering

eye he's lost.

Now less a speck

far side the cloud,

this tiny life whose

song falls loud.


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allets's picture


Loud, the whole bunch! Enjoyed this flight.



sweetwater's picture

Many thanks for commenting on

Many thanks for commenting on this, we had larks singing from dawn to dusk when I moved here, then the developers came, and slowly we lost them. They were just beginning to return but the developers are back again, they won't return this time as all their fields will be gone. So very sad.