I heard the little sparrow say today:
You cried when I was still alive
you cried when I died of hypothermia
you cried when I died of hypothermia
I will remember you with your warm hand
around my cold feathered body.
You tenderly breathed all warmth to me
as for a time my eyes were open.
Now again, we fly free with apricity*.
*Apricity
- warmth of winter sun on back - or face
- from 1600
- a gardener's word, chirped by a little bird!!
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