In winter’s hush, the dispenser sways alone, A silver ghost on its slender pole, Empty bowl cradled by frost and stone, Its once-bright waters turned to icy scroll.
No flutter stirs the silent, barren air, No eager beaks dip in crystal gleam. It hangs in patient vigil, stripped and bare, Dreaming of warmer days and sunlit stream.
Then summer rays will pierce the thawing sky, Unfurl green banners, wake the sleeping earth. The first brave chirps will echo sweet and high— A joyful chorus heralding rebirth.
Come back, bright wings, to fill this quiet cup; The waiting ends when songs come lifting up.
