Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Birdsong
St. Matthew 10:29
A fledgling dead, its little body limp
Not yet devoured by cats and ants and time
New russet feathers shining back the sun
And silent wings that cannot weave the wind
A handsome beak that now will never know
The sensual savour of seeds and worms,
Or gossip and prate around the leafy lawn
Where summer romance sweetens the twilight air:
We only know that this small life was sent -
And that may well explain the universe
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