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.

-Andy

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