Beth Camp Historical Fiction

Monday, February 15, 2010

This morning . . .

This morning, just a few mallards
nosed their way through the pond,
past fresh green marsh grasses
hinting at spring. I walked along
a suburban sidewalk,
houses shuttered, anonymous,
the wind hardly moving.

Yet the pine trees filled with sparrows,
and the sparrows huddled in the bushes,
scattered before me, then
gathered together again,
this February morning
all gladdened by their little bird songs.


  1. I'm glad to see you back, and I hope all is well.

    How wonderful to see the sparrows and hear the little bird songs!

  2. I could imagine exactly what you were feeling and seeing in your walk by the way you have so cleverly and artistically arranged your words.

  3. I love how moments like this in the outside world can feel like a perfect reflection of what's going on in ourselves. Lovely!