Pussy Willow

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A sonorous song an effulgent aubade,
here in this sea of concrete
and glass, a delicate bird offers his tune
perched in a pussy willow.

Its barely dawn in the heart of the city,
only morning joggers and homeless
patrons attend the performance to hear
a carol at the prelude of day.

The discordant cacophony of business as usual
soon mocks the bird’s morning song, yet
each start of day this bird can be found
perched in the pussy willow.

Like Jonah to Nineveh the bird comes to preach
deliverance to those who will hear it,
I stop for a moment on my morning stroll
paying tribute to the welcoming warbler.

Beckoning day with his mellifluous song
though little notice is paid
the beauteous strain independent of hearing,
perched in this pussy willow.

The cost of the beauty we seek in the world
is the attention we give it,
like the warblers welcoming abaude
we must pause to hear it

over the discordant rising din,
after the prelude of day
that mocks the song of the delicate bird,
perched in a pussy willow.

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