Little Things
Golden glitter lights her wings, that tiny pixy as she sings.
She whispers sweetness in the ear of a graceful heard of deer.
They leap aloft the wired fence rows one big buck and several dows.
Toward the rising of the soft pink sun their wistful grazing is almost done.
Emerald grass glissining wet with dew moistens their mouths as they chew.

Perched with her breast toward the sweet spring wind,
lady robin sits her eggs in a mighty oaks bend.
Her smooth brown feathers hide her from sight,
until her bold mate returns from his flight.
Its his time to sit while his crimson chest’s flowing.
He sings of new life while the soft breeze is blowing.
She’ll go for some food or some twigs for the nesting,
as he sits with the eggs in watchful resting.

It landed upon a powdery purple pansy buzzing about in a bumbling frenzy.
Its black and golden yellow stripes dipping deep then coming forth afoot with sweetness.
Back to the hive with an ardent dive it flew about its business.
Then there came a slimy sort protruding from the ground.
It wiggled wearily wondering about without a single sound.
Its pink segmented body blindly blithering in simple silent nonsense to return just where it was found.
Marilyn