an observation on observation
My how the little birds fly when softly the telephone poll that is their branch is shaken.
They quake and break and flake as one by one they are awaken.
Not a sound goes by - not a breeze, not a hum.
Not a wink goes uncaptured in this sterile aquarium.
And suddenly the birds all start to babble for fear their thoughts are dust and drabble.
When out of nowhere appears the sky
And out of nowhere they begin to die.
-RBR
Posted March 30, 2011 at 3:21pm
