Flash Mob
Darling gregarious crows,
Loud vociferous crows,
Squawking at friends to join them again
In murdering branches in rows.
Pocket Venus
Small grey falcon so demure, compact, tidy, self-assured, sweet composure undisturbed, a pocket-Venus of a bird.
More lovely still upon my nearing, tiny flat head so endearing, patterned feathers grey-on-grey. She truly takes my breath away.
Genteel, modest, perfect, poised. So engaging, wants to please. She visits me from random trees, bearing love notes on the breeze.
She stole my heart when first observed, truly precious favorite bird. So deserving of that word, she had me at “Hello”.
The Hummingbird
by Harry Kemp, “The Hobo Poet” (1883-1960)
The sunlight speaks. And its voice is a bird: It glitters, half-guessed, half-seen, half-heard, above the flower beds. Over the lawn. . . .
A flashing dip and it is gone. And all it lends to the eye is this- – – A sunbeam giving the air a kiss.
Visit To Each His Own, a tale by Kurt that takes the Libran concept of “I Relate” to a whole new level.
