6am. the bird sings its poem
Loud and clear
For all to hear
6am. the bird throws away its poem
Will a little female catch it ?
6am. no poem in my head
Heavy thoughts lacking charm
6am. I could throw away
My head
And catch the bird's song instead.
8am. The sun rising, glorious over the hills
Calling me out, out
This very instant.
Birds in concert, now
Inviting for a grand walk.
Do beautiful places lead to beautiful thoughts ?
Will the murky air of the city be left behind,
With all its torments and agonies ?
A beautiful scenery,
A healing balm for a suffering heart.
9am. Sitting at my desk
Birds still chirping
But the mind gone quiet
No one chirping there
Just silence
And the day lying in wait.
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