I saw a bird the other night named Roberta V D. J.
No sooner had I spotted him, he quickly flew away.
I called for him so many times—-my cries he did ignore,
Perhaps he never heard my pleas, as he had heard before.
But as he flew away from me, I heard him croon a song
It told of patience, hope and faith to carry him along.
The song he sang, gave me hope, except a line or two,
That sounded like some doubt remained concerning “what” and “who.”