Still the sparrows sing together and the wrens
As one among their number gains a new feather in a brighter hue
Promise of fairer plumage and more valuable to come
And the old staring owl looks to greener fields
Whither it will fly off all too soon
There again to vomit out what it has taken in over years
On fields where bulldogs frolic on the green
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment