Claire V. Bogdanos

At mornings there are times when I

Upon my couch, rejected lie,

And ponder o’er the many schemes

That filled my days and were my dreams.

I spied a bird that paused in flight,

He battled not with conscience‘ might.

I climbed a tree that was so tall

And cried because my aims were small.

I heard a song that had no tune

And wished upon some waning moon

To be a bird and restless fly

Against God’s canvas of the sky.

There, seek to find another day

Or mayhaps learn the  better way

To fill my life with keener zest,

Perform great deeds before my rest.

I will to you this last reply

To neither question nor deny

That days of man are wasted spent

To wonder where his lifetime went,

Whereas each bird doth leave behind

Abundant seed the rain will find.