Monday, April 13, 2015


flirtatious April breezes
not as warm as you want
sky half-clad in tomorrow's storm
I'll lie still and without people
clamoring, no one asking
needing, claiming, insisting
all the ragged shreds of patient
grace remaining
in little dusty corners

all the calls are responsive
calls of finches scolding
mourning doves chased away
from food and drunken robins
declaiming atop the tulip tree
sun retreats. becomes languorous
a contented fading interrupted
only when the arthritic old dog
decides the birds
can mate another time

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