poem

As I looked through the window,

Bird flew to me, to back it went,

Flitting about the glass, it stared at me,

With cold eyes, asked me question,

“Why didn’t He?”

With stroke of wings the bird went off,

With tilt of head I saw Bug,

Back raised and feet searching,

Bug looked at me and cold eyes asked me question,

“Why didn’t He?”

With sluggish moves, Bug moved on,

Whipping Grass caught me next,

Glimmering green and sharp,

Cold edge asked me question,

“Why didn’t He?”

Bird flew to me,

Wings stroked, warm eyes asked me not a question,

“Why, He did!”

Bug crawled up to meet, Bird up in the air,

Grass and Bug nodded and asked me not a question,

“Why, He did!”

I smiled and turned from them,

And with loose lips, asked me not a question,

“Why, He did!”

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