Wren

Wren

Summer. The wren in the young willow
Swivels with the speed of a missed tag

In a back yard game of chase. What I am
Chasing I’m glad to miss. What I hold

On to is the untouchable joy of losing
A race to my daughter. The air after

Rain. It’s late spring, early June, and
You cannot convince children

out of school that it’s not summer.

1 thought on “Wren

  1. rivrvlogr

    Wren, as the observer and the observed, reflects the fleeting permanence of the moment – a memory that can alight at random times as a reminder of that precious moment.

    Reply

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