Silent Song

                    On the ground she found an old twig
                    On which to hang the battered cage;
                    Then watched it slowly zag and zig
                    As tarnished hinges told their age.

                    She crossed her ankles, settled down,
                    She ran her fingers through the dust.
                    She did not flinch, she did not frown;
                    The cage still swung, still caked with rust.

                     The perch still trembled in the air –
                     Though nothing remained upon it –
                     So maybe something still was there!
                     But time had gone beyond it.

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