A lovely bird just perched on tree in front of window

Just pecking away at whatever's out there as it shows

Beautiful colors of mustard, grey, white, orange, brown

So many different hues ... looks as though it's a clown



Where it suddenly came from - I have just no idea

But it alighted on branches as I fought my tears

For I was searching to say just one more little thing about Dads

Something very different from the verses already stabbed



But the words would not come - for I said so very much already

And so - this verse is just going to have to suffice, and steady

Those other thoughts which've coursed all through my veins

Leaving my soul open - for all to see the pain ...



- Tristram



(c) Christopher W. Thomas

11am Father's Day, 1998