Skeletal hedge scarce protects
A sparrow hunched and clutching,
As wicked wind weaves its way
Into the heart of bare bush and bird.
Little feet are cold but cling,
And breast can barely shiver,
Yet still shrills the winter wind.
Can the russet, copper cope?
Brown-capped head in frost bows,
Barely seen in a screen of sleet.
But yet, little one–
His eye is on the sparrow.
Flee not before the furor,
Fly not before unfurls
The soon to be diamonds.