Saturday, April 30, 2011

A Bit Of Prose

"Spring On The Island"
I hear their whistles,
 the wild birds that call the island home.
Hidden from view by the tall grasses they are
likely nesting.
Sun baked during summer,
spring now finds shallow rain ponds alive
 with fiddler crabs. 
A haven for noisy seagulls, they seem misplaced
in fresh waters, while performing courting rituals.
Watching tall willows sway in rhythm, 
I see a shadow
moving  over brown "cat-tail" tips. 
 A Snowy White Egret suddenly  lands, 
 and stands statue like,
ankle deep in marsh sludge. 
 A black crow in almost
robot-like movements,
barks and hops toward a shiny attraction.
A tin can,
 half buried in a mud grave is the
object of curiosity.
All sharing the earth in a peaceful coexistence,
even I was allowed a place to stand.
~Dee Dee
Have a blessed day.....
click twice on photos to enlarge