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I May Never Be A Writer

Sparrow Song

8/3/2016

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From now until Spring we will have many days like this. Let's be prepared with the optimism of the sparrows.
I look out at grey.
The grey of my
Rain-trammelled view.
Is there life beyond these walls?
It seems improbable
On days like these.

Where is encouragement?
Expectation?
Surety of something better?
Must I dig deep
To unearth my buried spirit?

Through blurred glass
I see sparrows.
Feathers dishevelled
Excitedly chattering
On bouncing branches.
Unaware of their own fragility
And innocently optimistic
Amid the adversity
Of the elements.
Each moment new
And lived now.

We have... the knowledge that
The season will change
Winter to Spring.
Lighter days and lighter spirits.
But for now we're
Dissatisfied.
Complaining.
Pessimistic.

The sparrow has... a tree
And a song.
So small
So joyful.
How exemplary.
How humbling.
                                                                                                                                                         ©Anne Macdonald



                          
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    Author

    Well, as the title says, I may never be a writer, but who knows what my brain holds. I'll just let it seep out onto this page now and then. It's a bit of a scary thought.

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  • Art Of Ordinary
  • Zinanigans- Photos by Zinny
  • Just Some Random Stuff
  • Praisefully Yours
  • I May Never Be A Writer
  • Photo Gallery
  • About