The First Fable of CharlaX
The First Fable of CharlaX
A Falcon Cry
The Falcon Cries:
He spreads his wings in vain attempts to dry
He tells me once in a whistle WHY?
Why cannot we fly? When will the rain let up and let me in the air?
When will the water stop to drop on feathers so wet there?
The Falcon Cries:
A mournful sound so loud in quiet of early morn
His claws dug deeper in the branch to keep from being torn
Away from perching in the storm
His sharpened beak at work to smooth his feathers
He was using extra care no longer talking just to me his only whistle
Told me many things
The Falcon Cries:
We disagreed with all the rain both the Falcon and the eye.
Why can't we fly?
Eye could clasp the bird to bosom and dry his feathers there
A bird so wild and wonderful so hurt
With all my tears for the Falcon Cry.
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