In dawn’s first hour she left her roost, a roadside holly, thick and dense. While searching for a feeding ground, she lit down gently on the fence. Discreetly flashing her bright flanks, the redwing basked beneath the trees. From southern Denmark she had come to feel the warming moorland breeze. No berries hide from her keen gaze; she pecks with dainty etiquette. Her darting, beady white-trimmed eye, will help assure each need is met. We hear her sleepy notes at night, which echo off the evening dome, A fleck of beauty in our sky-- Bright spot of red, so far from home. |