Blue Stone

A purple pan wren flew right down
To the ground at lakes and meadows.
A blue stone jewel bedecked her breast,
Surely amazing her fine feathered fellows.
Why not soar to the canopy above?
Languidly mused a jack tom cat:
Certainly in the leaves of those lofty trees
Is a better place for preening and all of that.
The purple pan wren winged away
Seeking stories flippent and new;
And that jack tom cat thinking ‘well, that’s that’
Knew he’d witnessed beauty simple and true.


About Kitt

Sometimes a rhyme or couplet wanders across my consciousness. So, I share it. Other times I'm a hospice social worker; others, a Dad; others, southerner, New Orleanian, cajun enthusiast, voter, and on better days, a not-too-awful-poet/rhymster. Welcome to my page. Enjoy.

Posted on May 2, 2014, in Poem. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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