Morning Poem, November 21, 2017


Outside my door the frost clings to limb and leaf

To the grass and fenceposts

In the morning sunlight all is shining white

Only birds move, and they reverently

In the frame of this perfect picture

Their flight is silent and chaste, their landings gentle

They bow their heads, red and blue

And wait for the thawing

To sing

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2 Responses to Morning Poem, November 21, 2017

  1. It was “shining white” out my back window this morning, too, Larry. I’ll think of this at the next morning frost. Thanks.

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