Contents of an attic
Spider gossamer weighed down by dust
egg casings long dried, owl balls old and new
bat droppings – and the errant whydah
that could not escape, although it tried.
How did that happen, and so alone
tiny midden of feather and bone?
Why have I found you only now
little bird spirit long gone?
Comments about this poem (Contents of an attic by Julian De Wette )
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