Fledgling Poem


The stars have frozen in their sockets

In the steely sky.

My hands are in their pockets

As I go ambling by


The frostbitten fountain, its shivering waters

Reflecting my wind-nibbled face.

Mama redbird and her bundled-up daughters

Quickly vacated the place.


Swaddled in scarves and my orange coat and hat,

I’m frozen—the winterly norm.

But tonight I won’t let myself think on that—

Inside I’m so summerly warm. 


2 responses »

Ramble back at me...

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