"We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike." ~Maya Angelou

Wednesday, December 30, 2015

Poem: Sparrows

















Yesterday the sparrows
were in a dither about
something I could not see;
the entire host a froth 
of brown and grey-striped wings,
dark bills and bright voices.

The cats were with me on the swing,
in the welcome winter sunlight,
a heavy black and white
robe across my lap,
leaning into each caress,
rumbling with contentment.

The little birds quickly
disappeared into the
winter-stripped bushes
as the shadow of a hawk
slowly slid across the gardens.

Three minutes and
ten slow strokes later,
they were back again
and singing.




















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