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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