Birds of The Green Harbor
A Poem About Living Songs
Like a garden in a
Red clay bowl
The park is wrapped
Between the echo cliffs of
Brick, glass, and marble.
The city throbs
In a scrabble of
Horns, traffic, buses,
And heavy power tools.
In its oasis of green
Leaves and tree shades
She laughs
At the little birds
Who
Chirp chirp their song,
And dance back and forth
Across the pavements,
Like waves of the sea,
Chasing the breadcrumbs
She tosses from her
Four-year-old fingers.
(c) Adron Dozat 3/4/15
A Poem About Living Songs
Like a garden in a
Red clay bowl
The park is wrapped
Between the echo cliffs of
Brick, glass, and marble.
The city throbs
In a scrabble of
Horns, traffic, buses,
And heavy power tools.
In its oasis of green
Leaves and tree shades
She laughs
At the little birds
Who
Chirp chirp their song,
And dance back and forth
Across the pavements,
Like waves of the sea,
Chasing the breadcrumbs
She tosses from her
Four-year-old fingers.
(c) Adron Dozat 3/4/15
