Every morning Bashir patrols our yard
For his morning constitution
His tuxedo sidekick, an amusing guard
Unique in her locution
🪶
Precocious little corvid friend
Unafraid of my gentle giant
AM’s peaceful silence she must upend
Her mannerisms criant
🪶
Her song is not melodic
Still, reverberant and resonant
No other bird is as prosodic
Caws disquisitive and eloquent
🪶
When Bash settles in the sun
Absorbing its warmth and splendour
She dances to provoke some fun
To chase her, what she chirps for
🪶
I would never think of taming one
Though the urge is strong and pulling
Canine obedience so hard-won
Her there’s no controlling
About the Creator
Aspen Marie
In love with life and all of its foibles.
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Off the Book
It ended like every other stupid idea. Badly, and alone. I’m researching digital confession ethics, he said. A tech ethicist. He gestured at floating data I couldn’t see then pulled out a physical notebook. Actual paper, fountain pen. He held it up like he was showing me scripture.
By Nicky Frankly4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
As a person with misophonia and highly impatient, I totally understand that urge. Loved your poem!