Seemed sour, this monk
of a bird — blackrobed
on a post in its first rain,
scowl mouthed and beady
at the slow end of drought,
spouting its own wet youth.
Image: Jack Seeds on Unsplash
The Eaglet
2 thoughts on “The Eaglet”
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Every word in this little poem is in exactly the right place, it’s like a portrait. Great work!
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Thank you, Scrunch. And to be honest, it was a magnificent bird.
D
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