52. SPARROW AND THE CHILDREN

It was a wonder how our Sparrow spoke

The fairy language of the little folk

With eyes so wide they hark'd to every word

She seemed to me to be a magic bird

With flight-like grace she danced down forest paths

Entranced the woodland people of the baths

Her sweet voice like blue bell flowers peeling

Her every glance cogent, filled with feeling

The little ones laughed and laughed and asked her name

"Why I'm Sparrow!"

(A bird half wild and half tame I thought)

And in reverent awe upon them I gazed

Such beauty and wisdom in her youth!

Amazed, I noted others round us seemed to feel the same

And it brought to us an ambient healing

From the chaos that often lasts and lasts

Where human heart seems quaint or e'n absurd

T'was as if living light through darkness broke...

Her camper van was always clean and neat.

She'd bake delicious breads with herbs and wheat

Bread too hot to hold -- with melting butter

We'd eat on the bank and watch the otter

She played her silver flute,

Andy played his drum,

(He was Sparrow's guy --

What a lucky one!)

Our Cougar campsite deep in the forest

With windsong and river's natural chorus

Were days I'll not forget through passing years

This Rainbow life, these nudenik peers!

She gave more to us than we could give her

In our summer camp beside the river

Such memories will heal ten thousand tears

Make richest souls of the very poorest

There's enough kindness for all to have some

Like the hot breads of the river daughter

We are so like the children at her feet...