The Son and the Skylark, Pt. IV

“Why must I travel in search of a bird’s rest?
To find your old home and old bed — what is the test?”
The Skylark laughed and looked at the boy
She said “I’ll be there waiting, I promise no ploy”

And so the Son went to the north and the west
In search of a small gathering of twigs and hearth breast
Long he travelled upon his feet, marching to the moor
Searching with compass and tattered paper map poor

After seven days he reached the edge of the plain
He’d endured sweat and hunger and even bouts of rain
Perched atop a rocky cliff-face he thought he did see
A certain little brown bird keeping watch for he

“Hello there!” the Son gleefully cried in broad day
“Are you the Skylark who sent me here? O please just say ‘yea’!”
But as he came closer the boy frightfully observed
A Buzzard strong with enclawed Skylark, but he remained unnerved

“What are you doing to that there lark, clawed and kept restrained?”
Buzzard looked him in the eye and said, “Keeping her a’chained
For little Skylarks like this one are one of many prey
One of many desires I have, and she came to me today”

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