A crow sits on the rooftop,
His silhouette I see,
Then suddenly he flies with style,
Straight to a nearby tree,
He squarks with an almighty din,
And off he flies again,
I finish off my coffee,
It's nearly half past ten.
Another day,
Another moment,
What will these hours bring?
And as I sit beneath the sun,
I hear the wild birds sing.
In the arms of nature,
The place I love to be,
I have everything I need,
My perfect company.
Jayne Louise Davies
silhouette: 'the outline of a body viewed as circumscribing a mass e.g./'for example' the silhouette of a bird' I'm glad YOU spelled silhouette before I tried to do it. bri ;)
Bri, you're making a mountain out of a squark hill : ) You have a very beady eye for that sort of thing : ) lol. Thank you Kim and LeeAnn for backing me up! Birds of a feather as they say : ) lol x
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Jayne, I THINK YOU MEAN 'squawks'. 'the hypothetical boson analogue of a quark postulated under the rules of supersymmetry' ha ha. bri