Up in the hills
Fearless, flapping wings or standing still
The birds knew the way around
Their home
Overlooking the concrete jungle
Fearless, flapping wings or standing still
The tiny yellow flowers
And their tender stems swayed in winter
Green and pretty after the rains
Divided by the walkers trail in between
Sun soaked and dried crisp
The flowers on the stems
Know of their browning end
Shine with a golden glow
In the first rays of the sun
4th March 2021