One Melody

Come a partridge in the night,
Singing low, soft without menace,
Searching
In the blessings it brings.

Rarely does this come uncursed,
Truly heard and understood; yet
The notes do weave together,
Driven together by the deluge of light.

We all sleep, troubled souls unthinking
Of the miracles that push forth each day.

The sweet bird sings not of silence,
The new day that no one has met,
But of the shining grace
Conducting all fates together.

All to one.