#271 of 365 – “digging”



I rub my head,


as if digging

for words,

but they’ve all

flown away

from me

like mischievous


I’ve spread out

my day,

planted moments

like seeds,

but they got

eaten, as if

they were all

just bird feed.




About Blackbird

Poet, sculptor, jewelry maker, writer, spouse, parent, crazy person - not necessarily in that order.
This entry was posted in Poetry, Writer's Block, Writing and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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