My grandmother always told me:
“Follow the magpie.”
At first, I didn’t understand what it meant
And every question was met with a sigh.
It was as if she expected me to know
Though I suppose I don’t blame her
Because she spoke often of magpies
Indeed, they were her favorite bird.
They flaunt feathers of ebony
And glistening hues of green,
Blue, white, and a cry so heavenly
That the song itself ca...
