Written for:  The Twiglets #119 – “down pour of birdsong”

sky rained down silver
no raindrops touched the earth
songs of birds caressed air


Song of nightingale
poured down through trees,
and rested in ears of sleeping children.


Got any birdsong on tap?


There was an old woman from Utah
who told folks if she danced the rhumba
she could guarantee rain
up and down every lane
She was wrong, birdsong rained; next time she’ll dance a Cha-Cha

About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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