Finding Signs by Margaret Simpson

This morning, I hear it in the hawthorne.

Chiffchaff has flown, to be here

one thousand six hundred miles.

That brazen scrapper, coltsfoot,

on the sidings, beating even dandelion to the sun.

I press a sunflower seed

into its dark nest.  Hopefully

we slot our cradled conversations

into the receptacle for disposable coffee cups

that they too be allowed to continue.

That they too be allowed to continue,

into the receptacle for disposable coffee cups,

we slot our cradled conversations.

Into it’s dark nest, hopefully

I press a sunflower seed.

On the sidings, beating even dandelion to the sun,

that brazen scrapper, coltsfoot.

One thousand six hundred miles

chiffchaff has flown, to be here.

This morning, I hear it in the hawthorne.

 

Comments   

0 #1 Carole Martin 2022-01-03 09:51
Clever! Also engaging. I especially like 'that brazen scrapper, coltsfoot', It is, too!
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