A Grave in Apple-Tree Corner.

 

The tree is old and may be dying,

It spreads its shoots for the dead,

Red is the dead as old as the tree,

Twice years in his lifetime given,

Love and song his gift to all,

His whistle twice and burst of song,

A presence belies his given size,

His death was breathly welcomed,

A tired and disfigured form,

Without song or flight he tarried,

From perch to perch until the floor,

Of his cage so ample he settled,

He soars now on gossamer wings,

With flocks of rewarded in joy,

He will stay a while but return,

To cover the journey of joy and sound,

Until the joy he gives he becomes,

Then all is bliss a step away,

From where we start and end,

Not just a headstone in apple-tree corner.

 

 

An Ode to ‘Red’, a canary that lived with us for 12-13 years. This is double the normal life-span for this type of bird……..Tony O’Clery.