Friday, May 06, 2005


The lawn is green
on shades of brown
Starlings, like rats,
swarm all around.
They fight for bits
of straw & hay
Then, frantically,
they fly away
to build their nests
where'er they please --
in eaves and soffits,
holes in trees.

If only they had
songs to sing.
I do not care
for rats with wings.

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