The red-winged blackbirds
are the first to go
It’s that time again
The caterpillars are crawling
A stiff wind is blowing
Sounds carry farther
Fuzzy milk weeds
spilling in the chill
Political signs at the four-way
Gun shots again
Midterms and charlatans
Their promises—warm as ice
on dead plants
And they’re not coming up next year
Christopher J Ananias
(All by CJA)
CJA
I dreamt of SadFads over night. Secret Attack Demons From Another Dimension. A SadFad will come across in an innocuous shape–until it is too late and that Bird, rimmed red, reminds me of a classic SadFad.
Such brilliant photography and it all connects to the poem. The RNC meets in that bus–the real RNC, not the Fox News group–do not get too close!
Leila
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Hi Leila
That was a wild picture the way it got silhouetted.
Thanks
CJA
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CJA
This is all brilliant of course–but that one reminds me of walking along a forgotten English moor that is rumored to border on hell, then hearing a sound looking up, and there he is.
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That was strange too, because I don’t usually see wooducks in the winter.
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The Moor’s are such a unique place, not sure if there is any other place like it. Great description!
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