sheltering in the wood
the wind brought the robin’s
farewell song
briskly whistling through
the crabapple tree
high up in the sky
recycled machine parts
fall in a straight line fashion
picking up speed
but not disintegrating
the crabapple attracts
scores of robins
copping a buzz & chattering
like blue-haired biddies
at a mahjong tournament
no matter how fast
the wind blows westerly
it can’t forever prevent the sky
from crashing the party
november two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
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