She rests her wings
Slowly she glides to the tree,
circles around it just to see,
where she will plant her feet,
where is a comfortable seat.
Slowly her head searches for a spot,
gliding lower to see what this tree got.
A single hole through the leaves,
a protected spot she does believe.
Wings tucked she quickly swoops,
onto natures wooden stoop,
plants her feet and holds on firm,
from above a snake does squirm.
Resting she takes a needed break,
resting her wings trying to stay awake.
Slowly catching her tired breath,
the snake above brought her death.
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Author:
Maplespal (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 17th, 2024 15:44
- Comment from author about the poem: poor bird
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
Offline)
Comments1
A metaphor cast in realistic nature. It starts so soft and ends so abruptly and violently. Sad but so well written
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