early bird
ready or not
the iron is hot.
lead the way
leaden thought,
laden with words
unspeakable.
the early bird is hunting,
the late bird is full of seeds,
nesting nearby, in the trees.
The Sweater
The Sweater She wears his old sweater darned at the elbow frayed on the sleeve When she’s feeling low how are you doing? I ask (I want to understand) how are you doing? I ask (It’s been thirty years) I wait for her reply You can go now, she says Come back tomorrow I’m sorry I’m not myself today. Prompt: write a meditation on grief in the form of Geoffrey Brock’s poem Goodbye. https://poets.org/poem/goodbye-0
Love this lyrical bird word poem!
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