Bridged.
A small bird on rock-peaks above quick rolling
bubble-veined stream began speaking to me.
Not by known language he piped lovely notes
warbling amid leafy hides voicing with clarity.
With no way to transcribe I leaned nearer into
his mind and caught the right pitch of his tone.
No poetry could describe the cadence through
which interpretation his bird-trill made known.
With melodic outpouring of humble respect for
refreshment he sang even when slaking thirst.
A bird bridged understanding by sweet choral
abundance and fearless give of avian outburst.
I learned the awe needed
as bird-talk that morning
by a dipper on coexistence
my listening ear adorned.