you sing all spring long
in my backyard— and I don’t
even know your names


5 thoughts on “1929s

  1. you dash on tiny wings from building roofs to crossing streets wires year after year returning to your family’s nesting places with your new generation’s music. I’m grateful I live here with each passing year through winter’s anticipation of your springtime arrival once more.

  2. Reblogged this on richwrapper and commented:
    With (or w/out feathers? Reminds me at Univ. of S. Florida above-neighbor an operatic soprano – her scales enraptured: was too shy to so say to her…my fantasy world built her perfect…as her voice required. Thanks, Juice, for the reminds!

  3. I had a loner-shotgun (Cajuns call them Shoot-guns…most apropos, no? – while I could have loaned out to a qualified mass-mayhemer such as your good self, Sir Lance Lieutenant General. You ever considered “playing” broom-handle tub-thumper with the ceiling as tub? Naw…you are three kind for that kind of karmic Kandacy!

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