Thin splinter brown twig
fragile bird’s talons dig in.
violent wild wind;
later, this small bird flies by —
Is it the air that lifts him?
in the running stream [street’s curb]
The thick calico cat sat in the wet grass contemplating
rain metamorphosing her fur into shadows, when she cried —
meowing the closed door into flinders; LET ME IN.
Lightning and thunder
like a man clearing his throat
in the rain.
puddles in green grass
two Mallard ducks waddling
a stream’s nearby
sashaying down the street
like a proud hooker
a huge dark tabby
standing in the jungle
The Black Birds [like a gust of wind] flew in-between the branches —
Their chattering chirps, a Hosanna, to the startling mild climate.
I almost, GLEEFULLY, broke my neck looking up at them.
dancers on a pane of glass