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birds (a sonnet)

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  • birds (a sonnet)

    Chance killed the harping birds, not I. Although
    I shoved the nest out of the eves, I frowned
    When four specked eggs splashed dumbly on the ground.

    But if my gutter's ever going to flow,
    These knotted nests and sparrows have to go.
    The twigs and grass that clog it must come down.
    Sometimes I wish they wouldn't come around.

    I've got a piece of eggshell on my toe.
    It makes me sad to think they're broken but
    They shouldn't build in gutters, doors or flues.
    Hell, I didn't want this on my shoes.
    They used the tree before I had it cut.
    In back behind the garden by the hut,
    I built a birdhouse that they never use.‚Äč

  • #2
    I can actually see this happening as I read it...great reflective!

    Also, welcome to the Rhymezone!


    • #3
      Nature's choice
      Is not ones
      Own. A
      Nest by
      Season built
      And yet, globally
      Warmed, displaced
      Before the fledglings
      Are flown contains within
      Its song the
      Seed of Extinction