I really don't mind, mostly
when time slows to a crawl
I just sprawl
out in a hammock
and carve my nook
by rocking in the breeze, ghostly
hummingbirds might approach me
sounding like growling dogs
I may be a feast for flies
(who are unwise)
but full of laughter for the
occasional, off-kilter croaks of frogs
I try to bend time, here
still swaying to the wind chime I hear
bending for each
four leaf clover I find
making these moments
the longest in my mind
gusts of birds
playful and posing
or just one
landed, spindling
on a dangling branch
stirring me breathless
whether they are caw-ing,
red bellied or red-wing,
flirtatious, indigo
blackbird or crow
No comments:
Post a Comment