In trees that are covered with leaves,
the small blue bird does hide,
he breathes with a small chest that heaves,
his time he does now bide.
For in the tall and wide oak tree,
two yellow eyes do peer,
they watch and hope that they do see,
a movement caused by fear.
The small blue bird he does not flee,
but waits for the bright sun,
for in the dark the eyes do see,
and watch for him to run.
The hours pass as the sentry,
does watch with yellow eyes,
but leaves do bar their glare’s entry,
and are a natural guise.
The yellow sun does finally raise,
as yellow eyes do close,
and the bright light does close their gaze,
as yellow eyes do doze.
As the light shines, the bird does fly,
away to far safety,
and seeks a hidden place that’s high,
where yellow eyes don’t see.