The birds at my place know
RWK's voice
Each morning
At least when I'm doing my duty
Of belonging to the land,
I bring my audiobook outside
And she chats and tells stories
To me and the birds
They sing back from their pecan branches
I rock forth from my porch swing
The three of us share the morning
Over breakfast, coffee, or just
The sweet smell of opening spring
In the cradle between old river and older ridges
— Apr 08, 2024 07:39AM
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