Refuge Poem by Ima Ryma

The starling through the storm does fly,
And knows it must find a safe place,
Or otherwise will surely die
From wrath of nature it does face.
Below, it sees buried in snow
The victim of some force ill done.
There lies the body of a doe,
But possibly a saving one.
Upon the doe the starling lands,
And snuggles warm inside the fur.
And there the starling understands,
Still dangerous to sleep for sure.

Through the storm, the starling does stay
In the dead doe, then flies away.