Morning Mourning

“For whom do you mourn?” I ask of her.
while we share the coffee, rooptops, treetops
this heavenly morn.
To move, no silky feather dared
no whisper of answers, only her omniscient stare
“Oh.” Said I in my morning gruff.
That, dear bird of earthly care,
that will do.
For this brilliant winter dawn
that will have to be enough.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.