It's Still Life

A Pocketful of Reasons

the birds began first,
then wind in the high leaves

and suddenly
the whole forest
was louder than thinking.

some bloodlines,
my grandmother said,
keep watch
where the seen world
thins.

perhaps that is why
birds sing harder
in the trees,

and small creatures
find us
when they are leaving.

they seem to know.

in my pocket
a silence I can’t name
feathers, still warm

Written for Writers’ Digest Poem-a-Day Challenge for April 2026. Prompt word: Pocket. Not all images are created using Midjourney, but all writing is my own original work. ©Misky 2006-2026.