that chattering in the apple-tree,
as the sun sets all in greys and purples,
the sound of displaced gravel
as someone expected asphalt,
what was that metallic twang?

and then the air went wild.
it carried untimely fragrances
and the tiniest bit of a stink,
it broke into lungs, and then
broke out, broke out and left.

but the earth was solid,
it complied with the walkers.
it let the grass sprout in winter.
the green was becoming, the bitter
tang of rawness, refreshing.

what was that metallic chirp?
a blackbird.

say something

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.