Just Sunday Morn

Written by: Karen Deeks

Balcony birds eye view
Tiny gardens as tin soldiers
Tight in a row
Some as spoilt cherished children 
Desired domains
Some have dinked  boxes
Former relished
Remains....yet still standing
 
One seems a foxes
Potential secret den
Wildflower prolific
Non specific
Design on the eye
Nor ideas of grandest 
Grace
Just good honest wildflowers
Bursting micro colours over and out 
Of their space....
 
Sparrows combined free falling...
Sight
Spitfires versus...... Focke-wulf
Engrossed in that oh so intense...
Dog-fight
Crash landing within the foliage 
Of 
The 
Grandest tree
 
Exit sprite....one cabbage White,
Flits of hurriedly...
 
And the warbling starch collared wood-pigeon... settles
To sing his gracious sermon
Within the  sparrow's demise

His dull low call, to me
Surreptitiously... stole the show
It was indeed a glorious 
Sunday... Morn
 
And what happened to the battling birds
I confess..I do not know