a day in February
February 25, 2017 § 2 Comments
a day in February
isn’t usually this warm
I am below a struggling sun
thinking of the instinct of birds
and arranging plantings in my head
I hear the oratory of my granddaughters
as they stage one of their melodramas
in the leafless copse
at the back of the yard
I move some rolled up fencing
from this place to that
for no other reason than to temporarily
placate an itch to be the in the garden
and to be
in some small way
of purpose
I follow their song as they weave
among the trees
envious of their innocence
as they spiral outward
ignoring for now
their lodestar
as it beckons their attention
from the edge of forever
(c) 2017 Fred Whitehead
How well I understand this experience Fred, and how well you have captured it!
Thank you John!
Sent from my iPhone
>