Robin’s found his lyrics;
flexes all his toes.
Sings! This little heart-throb.
Sings! The season’s rose. Continue reading “The Season’s Rose”
is meant for me;
off his delays. Continue reading “Bee-Ware”
Am I alive? Does the mountain,
from which the loose stone falls,
Does the mountain move?
Massive, impassive, I observe Continue reading “To a Robin on a Bird Table”
That mouse, airlifted
from this dangerous
world by a kestrel, Continue reading “The Airlift”
When an elephant dined at the Ritz,
all the wealthy applauded like twits. Continue reading “When an Elephant Dined at the Ritz”