Monday, August 1, 2022





whenever he flies by  

I hope he'll fly to my hand  


I want to kiss his red beak  

gently stroke his red wings  

stare into his brown eyes  

* * * * *


my hair  

his wings  


different shades of red  


may be the cause  

of my bias toward handsome  

vibrantly red cardinals  

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Hands Are Full

  petrichor   heavy in the air   fills our hands