Outside the Cage
When death unlocked the cage of her small bird,
it bid him fly into that hidden place--
where dandelions waved though patterned fields
of umbel florets donning Queen Anne’s lace.
There is no end to beauty.
And when she saw him flutter near the clouds,
he cast a longing glance upon the land;
then plucked a brilliant feather from his breast,
so she could hold it in her grateful hand.
There is no end to love.
It often sung when she was sorrowful,
just like the meadow larks inside the glade,
and she would recognize his lovely voice
beyond her, as it trilled a serenade.
There is no end to being.
Just as the morning stole the silver stars
and evening brought them back again, so she,
recaptured his sweet spirit now and then--
while winging 'round the planets, endlessly.
There is no death above.
