1. |
The Owl and the Jay
02:22
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Among the creatures seeking shelter from a February storm,
a blue jay dove into an oak tree where an owl was keeping warm.
The owl watched him preen his wing and shake the snowflakes from his crest,
amazed that such a brilliant creature chose her branch on which to rest.
His azure blue and sable black, his stripes of white and jaunty tail
enthralled the owl so, she shook herself, and then began to rail:
“As every owlet knows, there’s not a jay in this whole forest stack
that’s worth the egg in which he grows or worth the feathers on his back.
They’re all the common sort of cocky cosmopolitan display,
With all their mocking hawks and crows, there’s not a word of truth they say.”
But as she spoke, she heard the blue jay trill an old familiar tune
(a song her father used to whistle as he scrutinized the moon).
And all at once the owl melted in the feathers of her neck,
and thought, “if he can sing that song, there’s something wrong in what I said.”
But as she spoke, the blue jay turned and saw the owl where she sat
and stopped his song to hop along the branch and instigate a chat.
The owl shyly turned away, her talons trembling and weak:
she’d seen a smile begin to spread its way along the blue jay’s beak.
“As owls go,” the blue jay mused, “this one is not quite like the rest.
I’ve heard they’re pompous, dull, and often fail to leave their Mother’s nest -
But this one’s got a most intriguing cast of eye and honest face;
I must admit it’s quite refreshing to behold her homely grace.”
And in a moment owl and jay began a friendly tête-à-tête
that lasted 'till the snows were melted and the ground no longer wet.
And by the end of March, when daffodils bejeweled the woods with yellow,
they had nested in the oak tree and were fostering a sparrow.
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2. |
O Rowan Tree
02:40
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O Rowan tree, you stand so tall and bravely
a refuge in the whirring of the storm
I wish your arms would shield me from this tempest
let me build a nest among your branches
Chorus:
If you hold me fast through the storm and the wind
I will fill your boughs with song
If you shelter me I will stretch out my wings
be the bird for whom you long
O Rowan tree, the winter winds are coming
their icy breath will fill your arms with snow
I wish that I could warm you with my feathers
let me build a nest among your branches
Chorus
O Rowan tree, your arms will soon be blooming
and breezes soon will whistle through your hands
I wish that I could crown your lovely beauty
let me build a nest among your branches
Chorus
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3. |
The Moon
01:32
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When we look at the moon, you say, “What do you see?”
I say, “I see a man who is looking at me.
He seems kind of sad, but he’s still got a smile
and I see a kind and knowing look in his eye
as if he’s blessing the night.”
And I say, “Why do you ask? Tell me, what do you see?”
“It isn’t quite what you’re describing to me.
I see a dinosaur rampant with rage,
a tyrannous king who’s going senile with age,
Oh well, isn’t it strange..."
...That we can stand here and look at the very same thing
and yet we behold it so differently.
You say what you see, and I’ll say what I see,
perhaps in the end we will both see more clearly.
I don’t know all there is, but I know what I’ve seen,
They say men have been there, but it could be a conspiracy
Women know best how he bikes with our cycles
and I know I’m fond of all the widths of his smile
The ocean knows better how he pushes and pulls
he’s kind of a scapegoat when we’re acting like fools
One thing I know is he’s a true friend to me
He leaves, but He’ll come back eventually...
At the end of the day, and at the end of our sight
We can only look straight when it’s a secondhand light
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