Fledglings
In the hollow of a tree by the river,
There are fledglings whose voices quiver
Like the melody of morning, unworried
That the moon by the sun is hurried.
Like these chicks, I’m content to unravel,
Undisturbed on my earthly travel,
The undying and ravishing wonder
Of this world, which no storm can sunder.
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
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