The lines dipped,
converged
with their weight
of birds
strung like beads,
like notes unsung.
We pass below,
unknowing.
— C.Birde, 12/19
Unsung — A Poem
The lines dipped,
converged
with their weight
of birds
strung like beads,
like notes unsung.
We pass below,
unknowing.
— C.Birde, 12/19
2 Comments
Wow. At first I thought it was a mast of a ship. Awesome photo and poem.
Thank you, again, and as always 🙂 This one actually fluttered into my head while I was driving… I kept hoping for a red light to write it down, but it was greens all the way to my destination! I’m still surprised it decided to stay and perch 🙂