Coffee. It's how most of my poems begin.
The loud sun bullies its way through shut blinds
and I blink myself awake, or half-awake.
I hear birds: sparrows, doubtless, and finches,
and starlings, and the stray brash crow.
Yesterday my dose of "outdoor life"
consisted of standing at the sliding door
to my balcony overlooking the parking lot
and seeing three squirrels dart in and out
of the bulky green dumpster at the far end.
Poetry by Thomas D
Read 191 times
Written on 2020-04-06 at 13:28
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