Epistle of the bird

This entry is part 21 of 28 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Autumn 2013


Don’t beat your head
against the dead tree:

the sun will not return
any faster; rather, mind

the insects spilling out—
proof that an empty purse

may yet have currency
left over in the lining.


In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

Series Navigation← Dear one, anxious again about arrival—Prayer for Wings →

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