Of a halcyon evening as cirrus clouds
stipple a brooding sky, a warbler
practices her octaves in a minor key, alone.
Descending to her lavabo, she fluffs her feathers,
artfully brushes water on the bark of an over-hanging branch,
drinks deeply from the phial of the Carolina Jasmine.
I relish the unraveling of another day’s discord,
splurge on the inherent beauty of my garden,
and listen as she resumes her chant.
Linking to dVerse Open Link Night, hosted by Natasha from her very cold Canadian abode. Please join us.
I wrote this poem using words selected at random from the dictionary.