Her eyes have been open for half an hour now in the darkness of the bedroom. She always prefers to wait for the sunrise. Gently, she removes the thick duvet and seeks out the warmth of her slippers ... [+]
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.