A Bird's Hum
A little gold bird hummed
as it perches on your branches.
The hum was soft and you welcome it
without a hint of rancor.
Dusk came and it flapped its superfluous wings
then bade goodbye.
The morning after, it came not,
it might have flown away,
Far away out of sight.
The next day no song was heard.
The third, neither rustle nor flap
Then you lost count of the days.
It’ll be back.
Just not today but maybe tomorrow.