my friends were there
braving cold windy day
could be good low forty
behind those spreading
branches of pine trees
that line field of green
grass is about a sprout
tasty for hungry beaks
they have cha cha walk
massaging mushy ground
clustering beneath shed
fearful of wolves around
hunting for tasty crickets
digging with their paws
ignoring propeller noise
circling overhead; landing
sudden they went swimming
and nobody is left with me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem