Allegro

The tree outside

my kitchen door

has become a

symphony of

liquid notes from

golden throats.

They chirp and

flutter, voicing

the joy of a damp

morning in late

spring when both

buds and finches

cannot help but

burst into song.

Recent Posts

A sharp new point on a dull pencil. Hot coffee after a restless night. Watching the branches wave hello to the morning sky. The whistling...

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I get these hot flashes – ladies of a certain age will know what I mean – when blood sings through my body like molten copper and I must...