Winter Poem

Retired teacher in W. Washington

After The White Days

© T Pitre
After the soft, white blanket
lifted from
the ground
in my little town,
green bolder,
birds happier -
busy.

Little, blue-headed birds,
big, sharp-beaked birds
flecked bodies
like banty chickens.

Fat starlings
eating yellow apples.
Pecking the soft insides
and clicking -
squeaking
as they
do their work.

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