In the northern breeze, where snowflakes dance,
The sparrow perches, takes its stance.
With melodies pure, it fills the air,
Whistling tunes beyond compare.
Songs of warmth amidst the chill,
Echoing through valley and hill.
In pulses of two and three,
A symphony for all to see.
On lush branches, it finds its seat,
With notes so sweet, so clear, so fleet.
Short and sonorous, its cheep,
Bringing joy to hearts that weep.
Echoing on rooftops high,
Underneath the azure sky.
Whistler of the Northern lands,
With songs that touch like gentle hands.
So let us listen, let us hear,
The sparrow’s song, so dear, so near.
For in its melody, we find,
A moment of peace for heart and mind.
Johnson Oyero 