The Sun’s Song by Astrid Braun

The blue jay grips the branch,

Adjusts his azure coat

And takes an inaudible breath

Before he questions the sun.


“Why do you not speak to me?”

He asks her, as she breaks through

The leaves to touch him gently;

Answering silently as ever before.


She does not her joys convey

In words, so different from the

Wind whose whispers reach him

In the tree where he sleeps


Nor is she like the stream

Whose bubbly anecdotes

Travel up from the soft mud

To amuse those around him


Perhaps she is like the sun

And not another —

Her song is felt inside

And she sings as she knows how

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