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April 23, 2014

 

 

That watchful wren

stared long from the tree,

as if to goad me,

because he was free.

 

That stare stayed with me

all evening long

The way he looked;

his menace to prolong.

 

And in the morning

sitting on the gate,

he was waiting and he’d

brought his mate!

 

So I threw to them

bread and porridge oats,

and was rewarded with

high pitched, singing notes.

 

I took this to mean

‘we’ll be coming around,

same time tomorrow,

now a new diner we’ve found!’

 

 

 

 

 

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