Pretty little bluebird in the tree,
won't you come and sing for me?
Your blue wings bristle as you fly away.
I wish I could come out to play.
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He shall come back to you riding on the bridge your words have weaved
You trilled to my heart your chipper number and awoke me from my fragile slumber. The morn is so full of lovely grace, sweet music that changes your little face. One with the nature you write. it leads us to a meditation. tony