Ptarmigan in Willow Tree

On a snowy winter day,
As we walked home a girl did say,
Of ptarmigan in willow tree,
“Can I take him home with me?
He’d have a pillow for his head
And cool white sheets, and be well fed.
He’d sit with us and watch TV
And he’d have biscuits with his tea.
And sometime he might fly away
And come again another day.”

To this I answered in reply
That “we could ask. It’s worth a try.
He might come to be tucked in bed
Or he may just send his love instead
And stay there in his willow tree
And carry on all wild and free.
He might fly by our house one day
And think of us in his own way.
House is home to us, he’ll see
As his home is the willow tree.”

To this she answered merrily
“In our yard we’ll plant a willow tree.
The Ptarmigan can come and stay
And we’ll be neighbours in this way.
And when I sit and sip my tea
I’ll look at him, and he at me
And I will wave and he will wink
And each of us will stop and think
How we’re so different yet the same
And play together in this game.”

(Then later on quite mystically
The Ptarmigan showed up for tea
Enjoyed his biscuits, was well fed
And later on was tucked in bed.
Earlier he watched a show
With all of us, though it was slow.
We thought the show was for the birds
Though not exactly in those words.
Next day he went back to his tree
Where we joined him for a spree.)