My uncle Gerry Karlsson was a storyteller—a great one. My cousins and I loved his stories and even loved the fact that they changed a bit—sometimes a lot—with each retelling. We'd all listen closely ... [+]
I watch the Starlings,
With their tiny stick legs and bare feet that cling to roof gutters
Their persistent pecking at the stubborn ground,
Their hungry hunting
Their tweeting, chirping, flapping,
Dropping feathers like black sprinkles on the grass.
The Starlings are an odd family
I’m glad I’m moving.
With their tiny stick legs and bare feet that cling to roof gutters
Their persistent pecking at the stubborn ground,
Their hungry hunting
Their tweeting, chirping, flapping,
Dropping feathers like black sprinkles on the grass.
The Starlings are an odd family
I’m glad I’m moving.