there are no words

but there are birds and streaky clouds

(cirrus, i suppose, they look like streaks to me)

butterflies that flutter

and this robin singing for his supper

soft white flowers to become purple berries

food for bluebird, mockingbird and jay

bees and bees and bees

and grasshoppers by the dozen

(if you listen carefully, you can hear them munch)

roses always vying for the center of attention

a lazy cat sleeping in the best patch of sun

a swallow peeping as he swirls and twirls

no, there are no words

only life.

 


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