The Unmatched Song – Sonnet XXXI

I hear the cardinal whistling in my morn
And wonder what he’s thinking as he sings.
Then cawing crow busts in – the moment torn;
The happy bird I heard now takes to wings.
But who’s to say crow’s crassness means she’s mad?
To match a tone to mood is simple fare…
Dig ‘neath the tune, the words, to see what’s had;
A joyful song may not reveal what’s there.
Watch humans twist to make “The World” like “Ours”;
You’ll see in tales we tell as old as time.
We think in Our Form They wield Greater Powers,
When best to let Life Live – “As Is” – sublime.
I’ll not succeed in matching World to Mine;
Perhaps it’s best when not all Lives Align.

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