Where sparrows chirp.
They sing his eternal lore
That nobody thinks.
Cropping in her claws,
She builds her lair.
Worms, beetles in tweak,
She feeds her young, so sweet.
As the sun mounds up,
She welcomes his homecoming,
Forever tweeting melodies.
She never gets tired off her singing.
She blows the holy trumpet,
Dances the seasonal fall.
She live on my garden tree,
Beware! Of invaders, she cries upon
From the tall
I always wonder their bothering tweaks.
Like melodramatic daily soaps amongst us
Or it’s about wealth, chirping
We ought to celebrate their formation
A salute they owe, like wardens of sky!
When Sun winks west, we burn our hearths.
They return to their cold sleep,
Night falls back and day lives a new birth, once again.