Starling Poem by Alan Walsh

Starling



I saw once a dead Starling laying on a dryed-up path,
It's one available eye so brittly staring up at,

It wasn't flying rapturously now under the warm sun,
It was beneath me, before me, telling me 'Look, come! ,

all birds must come to ground and my day is done',
My own time here hastening, my race near well run.

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