The temperature is frigid,
Though the sun continues to shine,
That doesn't seem to bother you,
As you continue to pine,
Ruffling your feathers,
Merrily skipping from branch to branch,
Life is here in a moment,
Your flight a joyous dance.
Do you recall that time in June,
When you visited my home for sustenance,
In the frigid air you have flown,
Your journey a path of jubilance.
I a giant,
You so small and frail,
If i held you in my hand,
I'd fear I'd fail,
In applying a gentle touch,
To cradle you in a childlike grasp,
For I'm clumsy, A brute,
And You are natures own spun glass.