Spin thrice
tuck your wings in tight
shuffle until you find warmth, maybe twice

Arrange your carrion
turn their dead eyes from your face
this hunger may leave you barren

What's that moving
its fur is as silver as the stars
perhaps it needs your mothers shooing

Squak towards the river
thirst draws you into its grasp
the daybreak grows ever nearer

Pull a single thread
softer this nest might be to rest
perhaps maybe this one instead

Sunlight hits the leaves
growing towards the edges of the forest
soon to sleep, you will breeze