By Glen Savio Palmer
Amidst the hills where shadows played
We walked the twisted pine-clad trail
The deodors towered high in search of light
A haven for feathered friends of flight
Then came a sound, so clear & whimsical
A trilling tune, its origins mystical
It pierced the stillness, filled the air
A fleeting moment, ethereal and rare
Hand in hand, we paused to see
The source of such sweet melody
We glimpsed the vanishing wings in the green sea
Etched into our hearts for eternity.
By Glen Savio Palmer
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