This week has seen me exhausted, suffice to say I didn’t get much done, and I went home Thursday from work sick. Friday was a sick day, and I accidentally got a three-day weekend because of it. But for most of the past two days, I have been going from the couch to the bed, to book, to computer and wondering when I’ll get my energy back.
Figures! I wait till Springtime to get sick. Anyway, I’ve been trying to write some flash fiction on here, (as usually) I see myself more of a fiction writer; but I think I’ve tapped into that long-lost poet inside me, because lately, these little, silly, ditties just seem to pop out. I call this one, “Springtime” I hope you enjoy!
Oh my Goodness, can it be?
Am I really hanging up my winter coat?
Snow and ice are long forgotten
worthy of neither thought or note
It’s time for Spring
and green, green days
and birds that chirp on the windowsill
When have you ever seen a bird do that?
instead of fly and twirl at will?
Birds are lonesome, free, free things
Sometimes I wish I could be one
To sit on a branch and sing all day,
what venture could be even more fun?
But birds they fly and breach the world
sometimes going farther than they should
But it’s okay, they pull back
to wind, to sky, to sun, to woods
What a lonely thought to be a bird
to fly and fly and never land
the spring is fun, the sun is too
But I think, I know, I wouldn’t want to be…
(I’d just as soon have hands.)