A Bird on a Limb in Hunters in the Snow
A bird, the colour of old paint,
sings a rusty-hinge tune.
Skips a note.
Its song has a sticky piano key.
The air waits.
No reply. No chorus. No riff.
There’s a sniff of change in the air.
Or is it the bird’s ab lib…
A bird, the colour of old paint ,
repeats its song again.
for dVerse Open Pub Night and shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter © Misky 2021
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