This Valley

The sparrows have arrived in my garden

I can't remember them not being there-

Bickering over status or food rights

Yet bathing in the same golden sun and brown earth.


My shy garden has a shrouded beauty

It doesnt always get the sun

Each precious growth 

Becomes smothered and trivialised

By quick judgement

Often obliterated  by deafening sparrow talk


I am left to trace the morsels that wiser ones have scattered

I have become obsessed with their footprints

I have immersed myself in their higher teachings

And lingered in their oases


Finer delights have captured me

Talk of peacocks feathers and eagles wings

Talk of purity

Yet often they are intangible


I long deeply,  to feel a comfort on my journey

And wish to dream in halls of opulence

Where wiser eyes inspect my toils

In my garden of frugal delights


Is there no place that emancipation is given?

I call,

But the Sparrows have returned, to make warm their nests for Spring




Poetry by LFD3
Read 152 times
Written on 2018-02-10 at 18:37

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one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
This is wonderful. I can feel the Welsh guard letting down a little, allowing a hint of the sentimental. That is meant as a good thing.