sing your song
with a tweet, tweet, tweet
and may it be
sweet, sweet, sweet
pleasing to the eyes and ears
as you share your heart
without any fears

sing your song
like the peaceful dove
coo, coo, coo
trilling from a perch above

sing your song
like the robin true
chirp, chirp, chirp
a sign of spring anew

sing like a cardinal male
so bold and strong
with a lighthearted lilt
to your song

try not to be a crow
CAW, CAW, CAW
from the treetops
about all YOU know

sing your song
like the smallest sparrow
peep, peep, peep
perched on wire narrow

sing your song
alongside birds of a feather
as you find one another
and sing together

My paternal grandmother was an avid bird watcher. My grandfather her ever faithful chauffeur. She kept her eyes peeled for first time sightings as she traveled the world. She also savored the visits from feathered friends to the feeders she kept filled at home. I notice the birds and their songs more, now that I’m spending so much time outdoors with the puppy. I’m thankful for that time spent under the sky above. It’s thinking time. Pondering time. Drink in the world time. Puppy playtime too. Recently there were five robins a bit surprised when Blue barreled around the corner, into his yard, and woofed them over to the neighbors.

I nearly bought clearance roses today
almost, but not quite

I held them to my face for a moment
almost, but not quite

there were several bouquets waiting
almost, but not quite

had I given in, this was my favorite one
almost, but not quite

even for $4.99 these gorgeous roses, in varied hues stayed behind today
almost, but not quite

resting in my cart, for but a moment
almost, but not quite

the weather report

wind whooshing
clouds hovering
darkness falling
the moon is full
yet hidden from view
no wonder I’m moody
sorta melancholy
a storm is brewing
for sure
better watch out
and take cover
before the rain falls
in torrential torrents
for the wind foretells
the power
about to be
unleashed
bring it on
rain soothes me
even by the bucketful
the rhythmic sound
the pelting moisture
anticipating
on the morrow
‘til then
‘night