Ambrosine Poem by Paul Seay

In the early morning moon, - about the hour three
A cry reached my bedside, - it called out for me

It would start to snow again, I would begin a search
Seeking the song of a bird, high and low, for its perch

The lantern dimmers away, but my hope glimmered on
Blindly in the snow, the moonlight is gone
Breath blowing the cold
My heart beating warm

A screech rang aloud, from the tall cedar tree
There lied a helpless hawk - crying with a broken wing - a beautiful hen was she
I went to her with a rising in my throat, and snow to the knee

I couldn't allow her to lay, - the lovely bird of prey

She cried like a goddess, her tears  were a portal to me
Her will to live was immortal; I named her Ambrosine

A hunter clipped her lovely wing, by a bow drawn in malice
Must his heart reign supreme, in a kingdom of callous

His arrow flies with envy - they will never soar as she
From the mountains capped white, to the valley tinted green
I will nurse her to health, till she glides shore to sea
And hold her while she cries, my darling Ambrosine

I dressed her wounds with no neglect. She screeched but once, without a peck

Her glimpses were soft, and her eyes were keen
There was love in the eyes of my Ambrosine
There was a love in us both, - that always had been

The moon came many nights since that hour three
Awaking every morning to the my girl, Ambrosine

Her lovely wing healed on a certain sunrise
She was ready to soar in triumph, and on the blue sky
The cry that first greeted me, would now say goodbye
It was my heart that was wounded, and now wanted to cry

The wounded wing mended, and became fully closed
Then, the feeling in my throat, once again arose

I cradled her tightly by the tall cedar trees
The very place she called to my bedside, and dreams
I prayed that she evade, every hunter and fiend
If you die then so shall I,  my darling  Ambrosine

Fly away, beyond my worries, and the tall cedar trees
Hear the hunter's autumn footsteps, that crunch among the leaves
Live past the winter, till the coldness concedes
Then the spring will bloom no grief, my winged, Ambrosine

I raised her in my arms to the sky where she'd fallen
Where I too fell in love, caressing her head to talon

She flew from the hands of mine, feeding her soul a hopeful seed
A year has passed away, for what I know, so has she
It doesn't seem the seed has sown, I've grown in disbelief
If only it grew above me, and sprouted from my grief

I still have the moonlight, and the hour of three
I await there by my bedside, or the tall cedar trees
If your wings now spread untouched, by the cold winter breeze
Cry for me in Heaven, my angel, Ambrosine