Spring
He soars to the wonder
of wings, and a lilting-trilling
song; a cozy rest, an orange
red breast, mother robin
at roost in a tree, tucked
safely away at a “V” – where
the hawk’s keen eyes wont
see –
further fanning the poet’s
inspiration, leaves aflutter
in the tuneful breeze…
while
the rest of us
simply sneeze….
Copyright © Joe Dimino | Year Posted 2020
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment