Make a Sound
The birds on their swooping drawl
Speak to me incessantly...something
I should probably know, and will soon
When I can clearly listen
Mr squirrel sits on top of the broken
Bird bath, waiting for something to be done
An oasis of new seeds and planting neon
Amid all the lush green ivy
My feet grip the ground tightly
Not willing to lose the sensation, for a time
Then back to my mind...
What to do with this stubborn future
I believe now it will take care of itself
Like the birds and bees
Attraction leads us godly
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