Summer Birdsong

The Whirligig 340

Prompt words in red. 

The sound of summer birdsong

is now feathers and bone,

crumbling on the porch.

The hand that gently held the sparrow,

now fingers bent.

It’s decades ago;

I’m old before I’m ready.

 

©2021 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Morrigan

Untitled Golden Shovel

Crow and Moon - Five Very Brief Poems