written by: Marie Studer
Why do you send the birds away?
my pint sized grandson asks,
as I peg mesh on bushes, teeming with
berries, borderline, black-purple pearls.
You love breakfast blueberries,
muffins, scones, don’t you, I cajole.
And the birds still feast in the garden,
seeds from the wild and the feeder.
But sharing is caring, his rejoinder.
Words picked from the net of everyday.
I smile, kiss his blonde curls,
release one bush, until he goes home.
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