The Kestrel

Over the moors and through the glen
his song can be heard
travelling on the back of a golden kestrel
nature awakes to this bird

Flowers start to blossom and grass starts to grow
guided by this harmonious tune
the sun starts to rise as a golden pan on the horizon
eager for it to reach noon

From the highest hills to the lowest valleys
the echo of the song rejoices
rivers gleam a crystal blue and birds sing gracious songs
for once no complication of choices

The kestrel sways on the winds comforting cushion
gliding through the forests sanctuary
the leaves sway and rustle, talking of never-ending life
the month radiates hope, tis February

Alas, the poor kestrel\'s song holds bittersweet symphony
for this song cannot last
as one day the wings which carry this oh so sweet melody
will be something of the past

Death holds no escape, nor easy reprieve
time is time it cries with hidden smiles
laughter turns to tears of mourning and hope turns to in senseless pain
for the song now seems to be gone a million miles

But hark! Natures reply to death\'s deed laughs in resilience
a new generation of youth cries with duty
the kestrel\'s offspring spread their wings and start to soar
the song begins again, somewhat fluty

Death crawls back into its selfish hovel
realisation setting in its feeble mind
you can kill the golden kestrel, the saviour messenger
but nothing can kill the glorious song, the sounds of hope and kind

© Copyright of Ben Blackburn - Known as "Ben" on this website. This copyright stands for all marked and unmarked poems and quotes on this website written by Ben Blackburn. Partial or whole parts of the poem may only be used or reproduced under the autherisation of Ben Blackburn. May I stress that I have also taken precautions out of cyber space to copyright my work also.