I stand by my front door with car keys in hand, flip-flops on my feet, panic in my heart.
"Let me get this right: I am going to take this gigantic menopausal body," I wave my hand like a Price is
...
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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.