Fairytale

There once was a blackbird on a distant hill
and all around him air was still.
On a pinnacle of rock, black on blue,
his song was as clear as a winter's view.

From dawn he sang in the frozen air,
waiting for his brown mate fair.
His voice created paradise
in bleak grey razor rocks of ice.

The snowbound leaves he turned with feet
searching for some food to eat.
The piercing core of ice inside
became a diamond when he died.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.