When words sit like a Robin

Waiting to be sung

Be sure the one that sings them

From a Robin’s heart is wrung.

For if the song is false

And the melody not in tune,

Then know the one who sings it

means to harm and death is soon.

For words will spring to life

In their context and their forms

and will either sprout a fountain

or a garden full of thorns

So to singer and to hearer

Please take care of both these gifts

When you’re singing, sing in earnest

What you hear your ears must sift

Let the garden of the Robin

And the fountain flow with truth

And the members of our body

Be the doorways of our youth.

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