White day in spring, song sparrow
alights in a naked maple,
the first hopeful bird
in the yard.
No mystery, this telepathy,
buzzy trills and tremolos
come to mind,
byproducts of a vital message
missed.
The sensible hen is somewhere
south where April snow
knows to fall
as rain.
3 comments:
'Where April snow knows to fall as rain.'
Now that, I can relate to this faux spring.
This morning, C and I went to market. There was a thin bird, orange around the neck, sitting in the rafters, singing it's heart out. What a joyous song it was. Nice poem, it made me think of that bird.
Helm.
Love this poem; last stanza is inspired.
Personally, I am amused by "sensible hen."
Enjoyed very much,
Carol
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