The Bird
I was walking one day when a bird flew past me
It perched close by in a high tree
I watched it and it watched me.
There enbranched it quietly stood
In the safety of that small wood.
In the calmness of that old oak,
With hissing flies and bullfrog croak
Hazy sun shadows just like smoke
On wavering bough it did cling
For me a solo it began to sing.
© Jacky Leonard
Author’s notes
This was one of the first poems I wrote when I was still at school
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