Blackbird sings
not in the dead of night
but lustily with intact wings
on this fine misty English morning
Whats more English
than a wee robin
perched atop a hedgerow
quietly savoring
spring morning's first rays
his bright eye alert
curiously watching as if
sensing no harm is meant
just my delight at his presence
At long last fierce battle won
she emerges victorious
pale countenance illuminates
rising ever higher
spilling silver into the garden
moon-shadow follows me silently
Whats more English
than a wee robin
perched atop a hedgerow
quietly savoring
spring morning's first rays
his bright eye alert
curiously watching as if
sensing no harm is meant
just my delight at his presence
At long last fierce battle won
she emerges victorious
pale countenance illuminates
rising ever higher
spilling silver into the garden
moon-shadow follows me silently
For just one moment
luminous halo appears
her crowing glory
Just like precious flowers
in a lush secret garden
connections too need tender
loving care is nourishment
not needed to keep friendships
alive and well else they
will soon no longer thrive
no longer grow mayhap even
wither and die from neglect
Nothing's ever
just black and white
sometimes it's
elegantly gray and silver
