THE WOLF AND THE LAMB, Book One of the Berkeley Trilogy by Rosy Cole

She was born a butcher's daughter, loved by a lawyer, proposed to by a prince and abducted by an earl. Novelised biography.

$22.00

Paperback

I've liked a lot of popular songs over the years. But the best ones are those I've learnt to sing, either with an ensemble or solo. The sheer high of the shared occasion, the pressure of performance which often unpacks a deeper meaning, have loaded them with a golden significance. It's impossible to choose a favourite. But the following poem is a spin on Alison Krauss's beautiful song, You Say It Best When You Say Nothing At All.

 I Know Why The Caged Bird Doesn't Sing

I know why the caged bird doesn't sing

And why God-given feather falls in spring

The cruellest month bespeaks regeneration

And flight from climes that temper inspiration

To climes where climbs the stallion sun

Envoy of death-blows dealt and done

Vaulting the hurdle of the season

While overruling rhyme and reason

Reckless florescence bursts its stays

And bears blind seed of future days

Rain-sown in heat and glorious folly

Oblivious of winter's volley

And Sibylline November wreathes

The Hope that free midsummer breathes,

It mulches cankered autumn sepal

Unreins the worm within the apple.

In gilded prison with wings pent

The linnet mourns his element

Preserved from naked thorn and frost

While honeyed halcyon days are lost

Spent life can yield – the seasons show it

But the caged bird can never know it.

His eye is sad, the sentence long,

Though inside jailer thwarts his song.

©http://www.pilgrimrose.com