through the kitchen window

a short poem written at breakfast time , looking through the kitchen window.
any criticism wholly welcomed !

The trees, experts at concealment


not so good

Riddled by those terrible revelations

sudden shadows on the ceiling.

We look out to the morning

Heads rigid.

Two magpies

cradled in the arms of the great oak,

Your eyes

dancing like a child  full of questions.

Dandelion seeds float in the distance

The End

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