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Click hereWhile tending feeders I noticed her
and held my breath as she hung
from naked limbs of dogwood and oak.
She claimed she was content
but I heard the wind whisper
that in fact she was lying
And was filled with fear of falling
from the wet-gray winter sky.
Then I thought I saw her shiver
As afternoon raindrops huddled; the lot
of them afraid to fall and puddle
not knowing how good it is to be
Welcomed by the waiting ground.
~~~~~
thanks to WickedEve for the inspiration
Tense and tremulous, huddling somewhere between Wordsworthian and erotic. Even with the speaker's assurances, it fills me with a chilly resolution not to fall, so lovely and piteous are the drops, in their few moments of sky-huddling perfection!
Just as captivating as the precious raindrops during April showers.
Sincerely,
Jes_da_man
and quite likes it, though he isn't quite sure what the "her" refers to. He isn't sure it matters if he does, though. "[W]ind whisper" verges on cliche, at least to Poet Guy's ear, but he enjoyed this poem considerably, especially because of its slight sense of mystery.