Birds Don’t Sing For Me

The birds don’t sing for me

weir_pointerThe tree doesn’t heed my care

I sit and ponder both

As I sit in my patio chair

 

The birds don’t sing for me

The tree grows its own way

The branch is oddly crooked

It must have something to say

 

If I draw just what I see,

Would you think I’m bad at art

Nature doesn’t copy me

I’ve taken this to heart

 

I’ve got an impulse

That makes me look away

rare is the day, rare is the day

Hearing what nature has to say

 

I’ve got a job five days a week

A rigid schedule I have to keep

So today I’m listening to a tree

In a language no one speaks

 

An unexpected turn

A branch that doesn’t jive

It isn’t always graceful

Just to stay alive

 

Things were going one way

Till something else occurred

The other way won the fight

Now the branch is oddly curved

 

The branch grows left, then turns right

The pool reflects a certain light

The birds sing with no mind of me

And I sit and enjoy a tree

that’s strangely bent like me

 

 

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