Dawn of the Birds

As the sky fades
from Prussian blue to
Persian blue
they wake up-
a worm breakfast
and a fresh puddle bath
from yesterday’s rain
all before the sun hoists
itself over the die cut mountains

they hang up
their dirty tail feathers
shake out the nest
squawk and chirp
across the street to each other
like neighbors in the old city
when laundry was social hour

because a lot has happened
since nightfall, they gossip
about us and what we do
behind closed doors

***
Yeah! Here is poem 16 and I am caught up! So this one is a bit more fun and whimsical because poetry doesn't always have to be so serious. I was up at early one morning and the birds seem to talk to each other at dawn and just made me wonder what they talk about.

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