JUST A SONG AT TWILIGHT

Well, almost twilight. This little bird was singing so sweetly, but for a long time I couldn't see where it was - it's very small. There is so much singing going on out there now spring is almost here.

The title of the song brought to mind a early childhood memory of my grandmother singing this song in her silver, quivering voice...

Just a song at twilight, when the lights are low
And the flickering shadows softly come and go
Though the heart be weary, sad the day and long,
Still to us at twilight comes love's old song,
Comes love's own sweet song.

Silent tears would dribble down my father's cheeks and I never worked out whether it was from the pain of having to listen to her or simple sentimentality. Probably the latter, since it usually coincided with the emptying of the brandy bottle.