There on the misty log.
That spot, between the fog.
Sits a bird with tired wing.
Only a chirp, a note to sing.
Feathers ruffled with the wind.
A long nose, just like a pin.
Eye's aglow, the red with life.
Flying way high above the strife.
This world is naked home.
Over seas the heavens I roam.
copyright 2005 POEWHIT
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JESUS SAVES
JOE POEWHIT
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