The Melodrama (junk journal poems)
Bluebird trilled an almost querulous song this morn,
challenging spring to sprout,
but Shepard's Purse rosettes and Peppergrass pods
are still too green to scatter easily upon March's breath,
a sure sign winter maintains her upper hand -
so Bluebird weaves grass and pine
into an old woodpecker hole 40 feet above ground
and awaits, angelic.
As Blue Jay does, he wings boldly onto feeders rim,
beauty seemingly a privilege exalted
as he drops below, scattering devilish squierrels.
Love doesn't discriminate between sinners and saints,
bird feeders filled as all congregate,
and I behind curtained window
delight in antics of songbird, rodent, and, crow,
of the sweet, stubborn, and selfish.
by Margaret Bednar, March 3, 2021
This is linked with "Poets and Storytellers United Scribblings #59 - Wait For It" I chose the line "Love doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints".
