Most days
Nothing much happens.
A hawk appears
From the trees and
Goes to work with
His eyes searching
A field for food.
Then nothing much
Happens again.
The sun
The path
The birds
Our shadows.
Anne Murray
Singing
Blue Christmas,
Exclusively
From Wal-Mart.
1 comment:
Nice, Beer. I really enjoyed reading this.
I am sitting here on a cold Glasgow Saturday morning breakfasting on "The Laughing Cow" processed cheese triangles and listening to Touch Of Class on Art Decade in another open tab. Too bad I don't have any Anne Murray.
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