A morning poem
With these dark mornings, I have been having a difficult time motivating myself to put my feet on the cold floor in the mornings. Now, I just stumbled across this poem that I wrote last year in early November.
A few swift pecks
followed by quick attacks of a beak
and she quickly plucks
a warm fleshy body from its tree home.
This is perhaps the strongest tie
my heart has held with the insect world
because this is how I have felt
on so many mornings.