"diligent" poems
The sun is setting on a hot day, he hides coyly behind tall sycamores, his reflection playing on the undersides of trees on the riverbank. His warm breath is the breeze that kisses my cheek. The river carries me on, over pebbles and rocks below the glassy surface. Dragonflies dart around, flying gems that glisten in the sun. The heron, with diligent patience, hides seamlessly in the trees awaiting his next meal. He takes off when I get near, his frame is much larger in flight. The sweetness of honeysuckle is thick in this warm air. The trees on the riverbank are laden and dripping of the sweet flowers. As I gently glide through the water, the waves lap against my boat, almost making the sound of kisses. This is my river time. All these beautiful things, I love. There is passion in Nature, it is in birdsong and in the breeze. It is in the river as it moves along and the swaying of the trees. This is where I breathe.
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 7:14 PM UTC
a cup of coffee
makes difference on
how you manage to make it
put your love into the cup of coffee
it makes it sweet
put a bit of hate and it becomes sour
every cup of coffee defines you and your personality
the way i make my coffee maybe different for you
but the coffee beans, the the milk, the way i make is same as you
but the chances of making the same coffee as i make is a zero because
every style, every cup makes a difference
every smell of the coffee,the style,the amount you put
everything is different
but you never realize the fact that
the cup of coffee
is
the same cup of coffee
whether you add something or remove
it remains the same cup of coffee
you never know how hard it is to make a cup of coffee
and yet you bark about it being bad
because you never seem to understand their people's hardwork
unless you feel it
even if its a cup of coffee
you enjoy it with a passionate love and care
HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR CUP OF COFFEE
because it's the same cup of coffee
that has been made by a diligent hardworker
putting his love and affection to his work
the very same coffee beans
that has been farmed by a diligent hardworking farmer
the very same milk that has been brought to you by hardworking milkman
you never cease to understand
how hard it is to make a cup of coffee with a smiley on it
because you never tried that
but but but you will still bark about it
even if its your fault
even if you know that
you should've hold the cup firmness
you understand everything once,
you throw your selfishness and
wait to admire the hard work ,the love,affection,the care that one cup of coffee brings you
and you realize that
a cup of coffee is not a cup of coffee
it's a world on how you decide to see it
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 1:55 PM UTC
It’s a coloured and shaded broad daylight.
Bring me my hourglass, my paintbrush.
Keeping a timepiece, how soon my brush
strokes become finer it is not the task.
Try once more, strike a fine chord in time,
ever ticking but doesn't make a sound!
Let’s read the small prints, the shadow lines
on the pitch of the slit sun shines!
A dark spot in the light, some dotted lines
on a blank paper, however witty you might
describe it, count on the tweeting birds
short and cute, singing in the open air.
Light and dark the two tallies, ins and outs.
The times come and go, flowing fine.
For now, let’s take a look inside.
Tint and shade nor tone them now.
Zoom in and out, just watch them as they are.
This cool sleek shade on the sunny slate
is it a shadow, or some quivering curly hairs
or are these reflections of flocking clouds,
diligent sea eyeing deep down on the ground?
Read the small prints, shadows in the daylight,
before the show is wrapped up.
And down the evening pool, the sun
parts away with the black swan.
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 9:11 AM UTC
This little man that I know with money in his sockets and routine in his pockets has self proclaimed that he is a tight *** When I envision a *** such as this, I imagine a bundle -- of securely aggregated, perfectly sharpened number two pencils. The businessman just shy of adulthood and too tired to remember –even the beginning of his of disclosure, denied his struggle to acclimate a multifarious lifestyle, appropriately suggested in the form of a triangle, and a circle, both of which embody polar opposing adaptations of humanistic routine.
The two shapes: The circle, denies the break in motion by imposing a constant cycle of diligent compression, there is no room for pause only steady flow and relentless drive. This influence of life impression slows down the heart, body, and soul while speeding up time. This particular commitment accommodates the dry colorless beings that embrace and accept boxed imprisonment.
Traditionally, the triangle denotes rhythmic patterns that elevate and drop to a point in which imposes a healthy reflective pause: progression, reflection, balance. As stated, as a provincial approach, a regular triangle flat on its base, peaking at the top represents a healthy, solid life routine. In contrast, the triangle can be flipped upside-down introducing an entirely new dynamic, composed of flat-lined monotony, tapered off to a regressed realm of destruction, regret and disorder. Despite the uniqueness of the standard triangle model to the man in question, it is important to compare the negative reflection, for it applies to the entirety of this investigation.
We used to be lovers, he and I. We shared my giant pillow-top that I bought on the black market for a meager two-hundred fifty. -- A mere steal at that rate.
We occasionally exchanged ideas, mainly about ethical concerns related to globalization and the environment.
I attempted to give him a cooking lesson once, but that failed, indefinitely. The bust was not my doing, but simply, a great disinterest on his part; or better yet an inability of not being better than me at something.
Everything has gotten so crowded.
Jan 18, 2010
Jan 18, 2010 at 1:17 AM UTC
*She will lose herself in a book
and find herself in poetry
She thinks that religion is a sacrilege
and that long showers are sacred
She makes love when she's tired
and never tires of making love
She is irreverent in her humor
and pious in her gravity
She is diligent in completing her work
and ambitious of her quest for leisure
She is the personification of romanticism
and the embodiment of compassion
She exists harmoniously in my mind*
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 8:32 PM UTC
only the moon knew her darkest secrets, the depth of her thought was the deepest, up all night, its something she does frequent, she's an angel from heaven, that fell for a demon, a beautiful image, turned into a broken spirit, constant arguments and disagreements,
her smile held pain, but she stuck to concealment, because her friends and the world were incoherent, I got to see her smile one day, ever since then, nothing has been the same,
she no longer puts that same smile on her face, she once felt grace, but it turned to disgrace, the beauty she holds is inexplainable, the purity in her soul is gold, yet unattainable, because she no longer holds trust,
what she thought was love, turned into lust,,an addicting drug, that having is a must, the magical feeling, turned into dust, she misses the memories, kisses, and hugs, now she confides in her own sorrow, asking god for a better tomorrow, he gives her a light to follow, but her own pride is hard to swallow, A beautiful intelligent female, who felt love through the most intimate detail,
at school she was the most diligent female, filled in amazing aspects, and assets, but she continues to feel the absence, and still doesnt comprehend the circumstances,
for his actions, of dissatisfaction,
still to this day hasnt changed her reaction, the biggest heart break shes ever dealt with, it was minor to him, but her heart really felt it, like a beautiful ice sculpture, she melted,
and there I was the person to who she vented, staring deep into her dark brown eyes, i saw what nobody else saw, deep deep inside, she was wise at mind, i searched more within, as the sun rised, a beautiful lonely girl, that told me under the stars and moonlight,
"hold me close and never let go."
i was there to carefully listen,
she opened up like a book.
after she looked up to me and said i was different, that i just might be what her heart was missin,
her eyes and smile once again glistened, i told her,
"look at the stars, look how they shine for you, until the stars in the sky shine no more, i'll always be there, until the end of time for you."
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 2:25 PM UTC
A delicate facility
holding a capacity of around
two-hundred
is taking control
of the present lesson
being presented, as only
true.
- a pleasant blessing -
im told.
It's hard to believe,
and almost harder to
imagine accurately without
drastically changing the
way we look at life;
(Blasphemously),
if we don't
think the same,
do the same,
be the same,
Well I refuse
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 3:01 PM UTC
The robotic surgeon didn't blink
Smoke, swear, or fool around;
He was the newest design of science
His metal feet firmly on the ground.
Robotic surgery was the latest
Improvement over the manual kind
There were no variations in technique;
No reliance on flaky mind.
He was diligent and precise
Cutting flesh to invisible templates;
He never erred and he never missed
Never once paused, to vacillate.
Trusted beyond the regular surgeon,
Using his fragile, shaking hands;
The robotic surgeon could do anything
Because he wasn't just a man.
The newest miracle of science was hailed
As the end, to the older style;
But one day the program blew a fuse-
And he cut her head off, by a mile.
Jun 30, 2010
Jun 30, 2010 at 8:20 AM UTC
**
A new poetry posting site from God's own country, Kerala in India
Poetry dates all the way back to the beginnings of Humanity. People have always been questioning nature, and the day-to-day existence of themselves and other humans love, death, survival, war, injustice, and the universe are all examples of things that have been questioned by men and woman since the roots of human existence. Whether in nursery rhyme, ballad, jingle, rhyme, anthem, or music, people have found poetry to be an outlet for expressing these questions, sensations, and experiences
People often associate it with strict rhyming patterns, complicated vocabulary, hidden iconic meanings, and difficult rhythmical conventions. Poetry is even taught in school to be an intricate, complicated, inexplicable puzzle. True, poetry is difficult. Sure, it can be harder to understand than prose. However, that is only because sometimes it is involved with your inescapable complexities
and uncertainties of your existence.
In this era when the soul wants to go on a spree, imagination and creativity are all merged to serve and let you fulfill your wish to express. The pen, mightier than the sword, is free and can conquer hearts all over the world. So here is a site which allows unity in diversity and considers not cultural and racial barriers. It welcomes professionals and amateurs equally as poetry believe not in prejudice. Human beings are free to write their feelings and emotions. We therefore invite here people from all over the world to celebrate under the ipoetree. Feel at home here under the shade of this tree which
pines to have as fruits your poems.
Williamsji Maveli (Williams George Maveli) is an enthusiastic and solid writer. He is a sincere, resourceful and diligent in his poetic work. He is very well connected and networked within the literary community and is willing to take up projects even in his tight schedules. His writings reflect the amount of research on the current events that has gone into it along with his knowledge and expertise in the field. However, Williamsji’s many poems are simple to read, interpret, and understand. His latest book, titled “ARAMVIRALTHUMBATHU…” (On the tip of the sixth finger), is now published and released by H & C Books,Trichur, Kerala in India, which is a collection of lyrics.
If anyone is interested, please email to [email protected] or write to
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
PO BOX 3
ANGAMALY
ERNAKULAM DISTRICT,
KERALA - INDIA
**
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 2:23 AM UTC
"O where are you going?" said reader to rider,
"That valley is fatal when furnaces burn,
Yonder's the midden whose odors will madden,
That gap is the grave where the tall return."
"O do you imagine," said fearer to farer,
"That dusk will delay on your path to the pass,
Your diligent looking discover the lacking
Your footsteps feel from granite to grass?"
"O what was that bird," said horror to hearer,
"Did you see that shape in the twisted trees?
Behind you swiftly the figure comes softly,
The spot on your skin is a shocking disease?"
"Out of this house" ‚ said rider to reader,
"Yours never will" ‚ said farer to fearer,
"They're looking for you" ‚ said hearer to horror,
As he left them there, as he left them there.
5.3k
The silhouette in the mirror,
As dark as night can be.
Not a single thing can be heard,
Nor a single thing seen.
Terrified of the vast unknown
Running 'round in circles
Without any corners to cut,
Just speed bumps to hurdle.
The silhouette in the mirror,
Lost where nothing is found.
Searching, trying to find a light,
But hope is still around.
Searching, trying to find the light
That fills the silhouette,
And hope whispers in the distance,
"I'm here, stay diligent."
The silhouette in the mirror,
Just hoping to be found.
Still positive, yet vigilant,
A dim light shines abound.
As the light is being approached
Hope is starting to shine.
The silhouette's getting closer
To reaching hope in time.
The silhouette's now filled with hope,
And a bright road's ahead
To find what is yet to be found,
The light hope's whisper said.
Holding a light to the mirror
The silhouette can see
All he was ever searching for
Was who he's meant to be.
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 11:55 AM UTC
The world of a lonely child,
Is a world of pain greater than any,
The child may seem happy,
That is only a face,
A masquerade of emotion to only blend in,
As the years fade and he becomes an alien among children
It is too late,
the loneliness that has lurked in the shadows
And blocked by imagination,
Has escaped,
And incased his heart in darkness,
It squeezed and turned,
Harder and harder,
With no escape,
The child suffers,
He may be kind,
He may be diligent,
He may be caring,
But he is marked by his loneliness,
A mark even greater than the scarlet letter,
A mark scarier than death,
No one would want to be his cure,
Because they are afraid of the mark,
Even though they are its weakness,
The child will grow evermore alienated,
Until he is incapable of blending,
And too reserved,
to reach out, anymore,
He is no longer a child,
But a fully grown adult,
Ready to leave and face the world,
Without a single person to call a friend,
Forever marked with loneliness,
He is cursed to be
Alone.
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 1:22 PM UTC
[Verse 1]
In the dark , We come out and play
We are its children, And were here to stay
Running through , Hungry for strays
No invitation, take me away
Im not cruel, But thats still what you see
Club to club, Come see this city with me
Hungry for life, Without your pity
I dont want it, But you give it
Still cant say she wont start up
Still cant say she wont start up a fight
You go city
Cause in the city of life she cant she cant wait
[Verse 2]
In the darkness, A killer awaits
To **** a life, And the lies you make
You do another, So this death can live
Just keep on dancing, To the movie your in
The smell of your sweat, Just lures me in
Your heartbeat, Does sing to me
Running feet, Beats my blood
My ghost inside you, Soon will be
Still cant say she wont start up
Still cant say she wont start up a fight
You go city
Cause in the city of life she cant she cant wait
Hungry for strays, hungry for life, no invitate your pity
[x8]
I dont want *** but you give it
Still cant say she wont start up
Still cant say she wont start up a fight
You go city
Cause in the city of life she cant she cant wait [x2]
[Verse 3]
Now its over, You've taken your life
The dark grows thin, And I'm left to hide
I don't regret it, But its sad anyway
Now were both dead, And scared of the black
This life of games, And diligent trust
Its the things we do, Or the things we must
Im now tired of being cussed
So go sleep forever end to dust
Writers: Nicholas Routledge, Michael di Francesco, Matthew van Schie, Tomek Archer, Alice Glass, Ethan Kath
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 3:59 PM UTC
Prayer For Called and Gifted
Jesus you are the savior of the world author of salvation and creator of the universe and all good things. We are so small and frail and yet in your goodness you saw it fit to give us so much and to raise us up to more than we can be. You bestowed on your people different, beautiful gifts and call us to use them for others and for you. You have called us each by name and given us unique gifts, each with an integral part to play. You have given us a purpose and a reason. You have given us a passion for life. We are called to be beacons of hope, bearers of light. As wheat only produces fruit once it dies, may we also die to the things that hold us back from experiencing the fullness of your love for us. Help us Lord to be good stewards of the gifts you give so abundantly and so freely that we would be diligent, responsible, and humble as we try to live your love out in the world. You said to your apostles: "Go forth and make disciples of all nations; proclaiming the gospel by your lives and baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit". Lord, bless the people in this room; send your Holy Spirit and let it come to rest in our souls. Guide and lead and teach us along the journey of life to use our gifts that you gave us "for the greater glory of God". Just as we pray for ourselves Lord, we also pray for all those in the church and throughout the world that you would help them realize and utilize what they have been given to make this world a little better and to further your kingdom right here and now. May we all be a "blessing for life and a blessing for Christ"! We ask this and all things in your most beautiful and precious name. AMEN.
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 3:56 PM UTC
I am a white, Jewish girl from Florida.
Hit me.
Hit me with your white girl jokes,
Your Jewish American Princess stereotypes.
I will giggle and squeal right along with you.
Because yeah,
I do order white chocolate mocha frappuchinos from Starbucks,
I Instagram pictures of my nails,
I take selfies, whiten my teeth, straighten my hair,
Shop at Forever21 and drink Naked Juice like it is my job.
Yeah, my daddy buys me things,
I don’t pay for my data plan,
There’s no way in hell I would drive a sedan,
I wear Nike shorts and avoid any nearby cameraman,
And let me tell you, I love jamming out to old school Britney Spears.
Hit me one more time, because none of that means I am any less intelligent,
Any less diligent,
Any less likely to face judgment
Than any other slice of diversity around me –
I am a white, Jewish girl
My nose is not its own cartoon,
I eat bagels (but I absolutely hate lox),
I’m not tan or even the least bit tinted,
And god knows I don’t wear Uggs.
Tell me I need to get married young,
Major in business,
Wear clothes that leave me airless,
Get some of that European gracefulness,
But don’t tell me I’m dumb.
Don’t tell me I’m not thoughtful.
I’m a white girl.
Take a glance at my resourcefulness,
Understand my goals of being ambitious,
Get rid of your own stereotype-inducing cockiness,
And notice me in all of my flawlessness.
Because I am a white girl,
And I am unique, strong, inventive,
Empowered, passionate, adventurous,
Indomitable, unbeatable.
I am an individual –
Not part of some whole that you put me in to stabilize your mold,
Not the example of a societally scatterbrained ***** meant to be your centerfold,
Not a previously worn-out piece of clothing thrown to the gutter unsold,
Rather a human being of my own rules and my own morals
A human being with ideas and intelligence and power,
A white, Jewish girl,
A person.
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC
We are young men buried in books
Shoveling words every day
As we are gradually shaped into tools.
Ours minds drained deep in the pools
Of knowledge. So they say
We are young men buried in books.
We find ourselves caught in hooks
Of wisdom seekers shall we pray?
As we are gradually shaped into tools.
Exhausted, some will turn into crooks
While we proudly remain grey
We are young men buried in books.
We bear fruit of hope from the roots
Of pain so follow the rules we lay
As we are gradually shaped into tools.
Are we zombies in schools?
In our paths we never stray.
We are young men buried in books
As we are gradually shaped into tools.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 10:11 AM UTC
deep below the wishing well,
in the tomb of wishful pennies,
live a team of diligent elves,
working day and night.
palms outstretched
they grab each cast away coin as it falls,
clutching them to their grimy chests in hunger.
they box them all up
and melt them down in flat sheets by the dozen
in factory fashion
in precision.
and they build from them tools and weapons;
whatever it is that they need.
their business is balanced on the backs of believers
who pour out their hearts to deaf coins
in scrunched eyes and in whispers
and a flick of their wrists to the darkness below.
perhaps if they knew the fate of their coins,
the industrial dungeon just storeys below
they might have spent their wishes on a shooting star instead,
destined to shatter through space.
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 6:34 PM UTC
*we are witness to atrocities
committed by regime
over its peoples
over time*
1.
we are witness..
shattering glass of reality arranged into chosen shard-feeds
like omni-gov surveillance into meticulous mind-grafts
spluttering eternal-stats for public mind control
spewing mini-truths of perpetual war raids
disillusionment of history forever rewritten
control supply-and-demand
create dark-cloaked dilemma and monitor shortage and famine
make-believe elements so well played to auto-frenzied latch
thinking is degraded and actions.. well, less said
2.
diligent and loyal yet harbour secret-hatred
feed visions stilted by politrix
deception and manipulation
propaganda is the oleaginous-game by wand-over-mind
totalitarian is the kingpin-holder of cards
and yet, who is really being played!
eternal marionettes on a conveyor-belt
can't even play with yourself alone
your **** your **** your every move..
watched - surveyed - and studied
by that ubiquitous-bulge eye you cannot escape
right opposite your low hard-bed
you're broken into popping-parts
that YOU won't recognise!
thoughtcrime-police is gonna accost ya
get up, comrade.. get UUUUUUUUP!
3.
we are witness
life-tube covered in darkened vapour-swirls
we are witness
children conditioned to watch their parents.. too closely
we are witness
truth so smothered, now re-fed by repeat-metaphor
we are witness
dictata.. dictata..
we are witness
austere existence in a tacky one-room flat
we are witness
subsist on black-wheat and imitation-repast
we are witness
regurgitate the party-dialect on and on and on
(after a while, we end up half-believing.. )
*only the clock which strikes thirteen
can smell the charred-reality
as leftover-truth is shoved
into incendiary obsolescence*
tick-a-damn-tock
and that would be..
one
S T - 26 sept
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 11:53 AM UTC
Nigeria our great and beloved motherland,
where multitudes of tribes unitedly stand.
Our land of hope by two rivers divided,
with lush vegetation by nature provided.
Nigeria our home of people resilient.
A land of great icons in works diligent.
We hail thee our great and revered black nation,
our land of human dignity and redemption.
God arise and take your place as sovereign Lord.
Enthrone Thyself in Nigeria's seat of power.
Make her edicts and laws Thy eternal word.
Let justice prevail in her courts by the hour.
Our flag will peace and industry symbolize,
whilst our history will always immortalize
the deeds and sacrifices of our heroes past.
Help us Lord to serve our beloved land with zest.
Nigeria the blessed will pervasive peace know,
even when the threats of tumults seem to flow.
Her crops and yields will neighbouring countries nourish,
from her fields that inexhaustibly flourish.
Sep 17, 2021
Sep 17, 2021 at 5:01 PM UTC
#*He is quiet and confident
Always does what is right
Quite a conversationalist
When relevant
Believes in keeping to himself
In a place of unknowns
Knowledge and wisdom his strength
Diligent and optimistic an achiever in life
Simple and good at heart
Understands and complements mine
Loves romantic songs
I am just the opposite
Can’t stand any
Retro is the only station, we listen to together in the car
Has little understanding or
interest of what I write
Yet, always listens to/ reads my scribbles
Our choices and tastes opposite as can be
Not, when it comes to matters of heart*#
Sep 3, 2019
Sep 3, 2019 at 1:48 PM UTC
a million ears listening
no one hears a thing
basest news a big surprise
ignominy is crowned king
a squander of treasure
best minds laid to waste
price of fear forever accrues
funds the purpose of the place
eyes of a diligent nation
brains filled with briny mush
ears clogged and waxen
expertise in smelling ****
central intel brainiacs
the heft of heavy dudes
a sordid nest of vipers
collecting despots dues
Music selection:
Radiohead,
Artificial Intelligence
Oakland
2/14/11
jbm
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 7:34 PM UTC
Remember the sandcastle
that we used to build?
It took some time
but little did we know
we have handcrafted our future
it was a hard work and patience
Passerby's liked it, others did not
but what do they know?
We had fun building it!
We were diligent to fill
it with sand
Sand that was formed
into an art of love
A castle that we both own
Yes, you will be the king,
and please, call me 'milady'
We will rule the kingdom
No negativities shall come in
Not until when we came back
Those sands of promises and memories
become pain
Everything was ruined
when the waves washed
our dreams away.
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 7:09 PM UTC
young lovers enthralled
in a passion that can
melt the deepest
Alpine snow cap
announce an intention
to join as one
till death do you part
the elders smile
at the audacity of
your grandiloquent
proclamation
youthful optimism
expressing pollyannish
sentiments born
of wistful hope
yet to learn the rules
of the vows of matrimony
and the endless sweet labor
required to keep it alive and well
thus i pass on this sage advice
when the baby cries at night
when the car won't start
when the rent bill is due
and you find yourself
a bit short
i wish you love...
when the cupboard is bare
and the desire to satiate
swelling hunger pangs
is overwhelming
i wish you love…
when you find yourself travelling
through roads that are
unfamiliar and foreboding
when you are hopelessly lost
in the darkest reaches
of the Black Forest
i wish you love…
as you grow as individuals
straining your relationship
when in laws become outlaws
and the pulls and pushes
of family and friends becomes
unfamiliar and misunderstood
i wish you love…
when resentments and insecurities
conspire to undermine trust
when greener pastures
pose a mirage of better things
i wish you love…
when oversight and neglect
leave you empty
when the luster of the
edelweiss bloom fades
when exasperation melts
the Alps greatest glacier
flooding everything you have
when the untended furnace
doesn't fire and the last
log is consumed
be patient
be diligent
be expectant
be kind
hold on to it
believe in it
practice it
trust it
may it bind you
in a perfect circle
and all your fondest
hopes and wishes
will be yours
i wish you love…
Stevie Wonder
Signed Sealed Delivered
Salutation for
Engagement Party
Maxine Lintel and
Glendon McCallum
Munich
11/29/13
jbm
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 12:09 PM UTC
It is my sincere pleasure to inform you of the return of the Robins to Hill Country .... Stately , regal birds they are , with a dark gray coat and a breastplate of burnt orange ... Telling tall tales of their Winter quarters ,
blessing my backyard by the veritable hundreds ..
Dining voraciously on earthworms and grasshoppers , sifting through the
grass like diligent window shoppers .. Singing sweet melodies and carrying on conversations , 'tis a great blessing indeed to have them home from vacation ...
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 8:53 PM UTC