His bright voice swoops
through bare branches, spreads
across the grass,
Woosh, and he sits on the wood fence
head bold as a warning
throat an unquenchable fire
wings like an ambush
Zooming across the garden
to his brown-and-rose mate at the top
of the stark old maple
he proclaims the day’s beginning.
Oh, I love this poem!
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Thank you!
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