nature

Bird Brain

I saw a bird in a tree.

I said “hey bird talk to me.”

He turned around, we had a chat.

I wrote it down and that was that.

We said good-bye and I flew home.

I sat right down to write this poem.

 *

But lost the notes stuffed in my vest,

And whence returned I found a nest.

“My birds prose lost, how can this be?”

I said “hey bird look at me.”

She looked down so she could see,

A babbling bird brain talking to a tree.

 *

I yelled “give back my notes in your nest.”

She returned the anger, on my vest.

I started to yell one more time.

Then thought; save the vest, forget this rhyme,

A cozy nest is better than a talking bird poem.

I just hope I think of something else when I get home.

~

sck012815

Whether to Weather  

A poet preserved by their craft

Today’s storm is tomorrow’s draft

Tonight’s darkness, tomorrow’s light

Time alone is time to write

~

Time without leaves space within

Whether or not we choose to begin

Space’s filled with unchosen weather

That’s why a quill floats like a feather

 ~

Writing out the storms, blue sky always brighter

Showers of tears make the heart feel lighter

Rainbows get a page or two, hurricanes get quite a few

And storms better weathered in a blanket shared by two

 ~

Sck123014