this bird flies
a fluttered blur
all flurry on the rise
then silohetted,
fury at rest
behind puffed breast
well lost in flight
like a kite
on a lost wind
it drops,
gathering again
finally to sit
eating rocks
its song
a searching melodious grit
sailing after lunch embarked:
there's something strange
about a meadow larked...
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I thought I'd try again to comment on your page. Love this one. All of them. Will look forward to more.
ReplyDeleteLove you