The blackbird is my special friend
Each winter not the least,
I with it precious moments spend
Like coming to a  feast.

For on its table I prepare
Delicious, oily food,
Though icy is the wind and air
And poor its livelihood.

The blackbirds freeze, but here they throng
They bravely seem to  say,
“Next spring you´ll hear that heartfelt song
That now seems far away!”

Their singing is just that foretaste
Of Heaven´s harps of praise,
That song God in my heart has placed
To magnify His grace.

And as the shadows of the death
My soul may strangely cloud,
I shall my gospel´s  “Shibboleth”
With all the birds sing loud!

Jan.9, 2010

-jn-

“The time of singing has come!”  (Song of Songs 2:12)