The robin flickers in the tree
the blue tit flies in bobs and arcs
sparrows scatter across the branches
feathered notes play on the garden’s staves.
Palm trees, a beautifully silent firework
tracing a stream up the trunk
to mute exploding leaves.
One line written
a slice of mind in one time
by the second line
I may disagree with my first
yet a slice of time has vibrancy.
“No to fur” they announced, and strutted in the papers
Yet they return to wearing death on their shoulder
As if principles changed with fashion
They have no weight to their soul
They are tugged in which ever gust would take them
Nothing of substance to hold them firm
Imagine if you knew yesterday what you know now
I wonder if I’ll know tomorrow what I know now.
Do not disturb the writer
He is disturbed enough.