When free, her voice would soar through sky;
‘Cross land and sea, her lullaby
Would hush the babes and make kings cry.
Now caught, the lady coughs a sigh;
Her throat in gilded lock.
Gifts they bring to urge her. Brutes!
With offerings of flowers; fruits;
Instruments of strings and flutes…
She warbles ‘round the clock.
In fallen leaves of far below
A glint of gold began to show.
The fancier caught up the glow
With beak he tied the precious stow,
Hiding from the flock.
Then high above he heard her sing;
With tinkling resounding ring…
‘More treasures!’ So he took to wing,
Toward the gilded lock…
Poem by my sister Esther Flowers