for Jingle and all of her hard work
You run to be warm in the sun;
Fly high to be close to the sun.
Crimson colored buttons unfold,
their hands reaching up for the sun.
A worm wriggles up from his home,
skin blind to the pull of the sun.
Warm wind tickles feathers unfurled,
so hot like the bite of the sun.
Sparrow, as you make your way down
please sing for the light of the sun.