Blue Cold Morning

recovered repost

Blue Cold Morning
 
except for the north star, workaholic of the cosmos
the glittering night men pack their shine and move on
in the pause before the sun lifts her pink eyes
from puffy sleep, it is simply a blue cold morning
one bird has hidden in winter's slim branches
it listens to the songs of brotherhood and hesitates
there is a small thorn beneath the right wing
it has bent a smooth head to tug at the wooden piece
found yesterday in a wreath of bright holly
then it was not so troublesome or sharp
for the red berries gleamed beneath the frost shine
the leaves glistened deep green
now there is an aura of regret in the eyes of the bird
through the stiffened point of pain it stares at dawn
who will notice in the wild concert
if one bird fails to sing
 

Reviews

[Olivera]

This poem is enchantingly beautiful.

[Donald Meikle]

I am so glad you recovered this'n

[Eustacia]

Wow, I'm breathless. This is amazing. Absolutely loved this.

[Emily B]

who will notice? There is One who knows every bird in the air. This was such a lovely, sad write. As always.

[Molly]

This was beautiful! Your imagery really intrigued me; I had to stop listening to music as I usually do and read this aloud to myself. Keep this up, I really enjoyed it and would love to read more.