Daily poem: August stanza 27


Life sings in these poplars

with the windโ€™s voice

and the voices of the birdfolk.

A buzzard cries, high and plaintive,

for her lost fledgling.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

22 thoughts on “Daily poem: August stanza 27”

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