Wednesday, December 14, 2016

Lizz Murphy - Poem 349: Drifts


Bird sounds all shapes sometimes a swoop the news from over the back the children’s shift a gentle waking then squabbling Quiet A pigeon cooing other voices the wind in a rush through trees and cables The street emptying Somewhere a vehicle reversing at length A keyboard clickety click me talking to myself The phone me talking The drone of a small motor bike I see dragonflies Wind chimes I see a drift of blowing blossoms A black cat crosses someone else’s path what about my luck Laughter and a high voice Dinner time traffic Quiet


  1. a bird caught itself
    in my library
    had to be let out by way of a painting
    through a window I never normally use

    I put it all down to the heat


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