Little Brown Bird (a poem)

This poem just flowed out of me this morning. And, yes, I was awake. An no, I wasn’t under the influence of anything (other than coffee). Sometimes the natural brain is it’s own wonderful playground.


Little Brown Bird

A little brown bird perched upon my nose.

Talons scribing fresh wounds of all it knows.

A blue rat stands nearby at attention.

Reading each line and interpreting intention.

A orange cat plays with my eyeballs.

Pulling them to and fro from across the hall.

A patchy dog sleeps in the corner unaware.

Of all the troubles in this world to take care.

Horse bones hold together the chair I sit.

Wondering if this is the heavenly bit.

I start to feel its hooves trotting upon my seat.

Building to a gallop in a quickening beat.

Now sprinting into my belly and chest.

Showing my heart the wild wild west.

Lifting me to its muscled back so high.

I see beyond the old horizon in the sky.

He bends his neck, setting me down.

Before chasing the sun’s next round.

I sit upon the earthly ground.

Grateful the worlds turned once more around.

Gifting me the chance to see.

What this little brown bird has to say to me.


Be well,

Monty

5 Comments

  1. Amazing creativity!!

    Like

    1. Monty Vern says:

      Thanks so much…this one flowed well beyond my initial imagination.

      Like

      1. Yay! Thats the best feeling!

        Like

    1. Monty Vern says:

      Thank you so much! I really appreciate you reading and providing feedback.

      Liked by 1 person

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