Listening and listening
Closely, you may hear
(After its other
Incredibly clear song)
The one the winter wren
Sings in the thinnest of whispers
More quietly than soft rain
Proclaiming almost nothing
To itself and to you,
And you must be
Only a step away
To hear it even faintly
(No one knows why
It will sing so softly),
It's tiny claws
Braced for arpeggios,
Its dark eyes
Gleaming with a small
Astonishing promise,
Its beak held open
For its hushed throat,
Whispering to itself
From its mysterious heart.