Blackbird Poem by Dino Steffens
Blackbird
O little blackbird, what business do you have with an old winter's moan?
Sitting on the bare branch, singing to yourself with a perpetual undertone
Flakes of snow congregate over the grave and my heart breaks into crumbs of love
Scattered on my bereavement's window sill as my grief reaches unscathed the heavens above
Thursday, December 4, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: death
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4/23/2024 6:17:12 AM # 1.0.0.1119
