Words On A January Day

There is something about the song
Of birds, on a cold, January day,
That makes me wish to stay,
Out in this wood,
The air
Is good.

There song
Is long
As joy, or grief.
Although, we know
That joy is, too often brief.

The smile
Oft flits across the face, then is gone
Lives on
In the hearts of men
Who, when
They hear the birds
Pour out words,
To our feathered friends,
Who comprehend
Not our ends).

My dog revels in the sscents of grass,
Whilst I
Look up to the sky
And think “all this will pass”,
(A thought that he can not grasp).
Yet he, and the birds that fly,
Are happier than I.

7 thoughts on “Words On A January Day

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.