deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Bird Bath
Cast in iron and ice the bird bath
shivers in the frost and freezing sun
I see from my bedroom window.
Blue as yesterday the sky is clear,
roofs gossamer white in frost,
no snow. does it wait for Christmas?
I hear the boiler plop its heat,
will wait until the streets are gritted
before I venture out to fill the tank
not going far, but you never know at Christmas.
The bird seed in the feeder, I filled it yesterday,
tells of the birds that call.
Four days to go, phone calls and late cards,
who have I forgotten.....meant no offence;
must boil the kettle, thaw out the ice,
birds calling for a drink
shivers in the frost and freezing sun
I see from my bedroom window.
Blue as yesterday the sky is clear,
roofs gossamer white in frost,
no snow. does it wait for Christmas?
I hear the boiler plop its heat,
will wait until the streets are gritted
before I venture out to fill the tank
not going far, but you never know at Christmas.
The bird seed in the feeder, I filled it yesterday,
tells of the birds that call.
Four days to go, phone calls and late cards,
who have I forgotten.....meant no offence;
must boil the kettle, thaw out the ice,
birds calling for a drink
Published 10th Mar 2016
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10th Mar 2016 11:59am
10th Mar 2016 12:07pm
10th Mar 2016 5:10pm
Beautiful, Kexby.
I hear the boiler plop its heat,
That sound is so distinct. I love listening to it late at night
or early morning before the world wakes.
I hear the boiler plop its heat,
That sound is so distinct. I love listening to it late at night
or early morning before the world wakes.
I love to hear the boiler 'plop 'its heat A typically C21 sound. thankyou for calling Ahavati
