In and Out the Foxgloves

In and Out the Foxgloves

 

In and out the foxgloves,

The folks fly fast and merrily;

In and out the foxgloves

At the dawning of the day,

Folding up their fragile wings,

They ponder momentarily,

Whether to sup nectar,

Or to simply fly away.

 

Birds have yet to forage

For nutritious caterpillars.

People have no place

In such an early, pearly morn.

Lovey-dovey pigeons

Search through trees for des-res villas.

It’s a captivating moment

And a good time to be born.

 

Mist has left the hedgerows

And is floating through the ether

With the added bonus

Of a million birds in song.

Everything is buzzing

With the thrill of sheer existence.

We are only human, but

God never gets it wrong.

 

©Ruth Twyman Lockyer May 2014