Bird-watching
Summer rain,
the flick of a gray titmouse tufted in a nest
of dried clover and moss,
one short trip to the feeder— lazy, needy,
mild and easy
in the light of thunder,
though,
you and I, we are
paralyzed
by rains of sorrow,
thirst-teased in our waking, our rising,
bluffing behind our imposing need for lazy
feedings mild and easy.
Tell me if our weakness isn't really our strength,
tell me if our strength isn't really our weakness
and we have it all wrong, tell all the world
our summers need the thunder
and so do we
if we want to fly
against the driving rain.
the flick of a gray titmouse tufted in a nest
of dried clover and moss,
one short trip to the feeder— lazy, needy,
mild and easy
in the light of thunder,
though,
you and I, we are
paralyzed
by rains of sorrow,
thirst-teased in our waking, our rising,
bluffing behind our imposing need for lazy
feedings mild and easy.
Tell me if our weakness isn't really our strength,
tell me if our strength isn't really our weakness
and we have it all wrong, tell all the world
our summers need the thunder
and so do we
if we want to fly
against the driving rain.
J.lynn Sheridan writes in the Chain O’ Lakes of northern Illinois in a very ordinary house, but she’d rather live in an old hardware store for the aroma, ambiance, and possibilities. She has recently been published in Beyond the Dark Room and Storm Cycle 2012, Four and Twenty Literary Journal, The Plum Plum, Jellyfish Whispers, MouseTales Press, and Enhance. She is currently working on her first novel. Find her at writingonthesun.wordpress.com and @J.lynnSheridan.
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