Talking Bird A Gossip Tup Of Tea Poem by James McLain

Busy
brooms sweeping clean
dirt as bright as sun would is
to die
an ear to lend while I
say more.
Understanding
feathers flock to talk
is the morning threw our trash
this day away
gone thoughts brought
back to life
in lite of she of we our mortal souls
another glass of your foul tea
I sit and tremble Bella Donna's worse.
Singing song chirping here
tone deaf are most men hear
the verse is caught in web of curse
that sticks an eye or two.
Yes mam, no mam
it was not me
who said those words I plea
your mercy quick and sure spares me this date
your lovingly fate my dear..) it(s grand I fear..