Some days we want sunlight, clover,
A morning field surrounded by unmoving trees as they sip from roots
We don't think of sunburn or become preoccupied with world clutter
Clouds morph into play dough wisps
Meaningless then gone behind the school as it fills,
Moribund anchors persist
I found a death-still fledgling
Once a crow in its parts still feathered
Inside a ring of trees
It must have failed flight broken below
I lift it by the talons
What to do with it it doesn't deserve ignominy
Watching clouds in spring is better
I have no effect on anything
Other than my stance in the field
Lifting the cold coffee to mouth
Feeling sun warmth on my head
Alleviating pain that roosts in my branches, kicked out
I don't care about the dog routine as the carefree wish to play fetch
Be disturbed I have some to spare
Even though empty I set the coffee bottle upright
The lawn too perfect for disorder
Dew departing by the millisecond it's a tight schedule nature weaves
Going up, coming down
To succinctly surmise
Clouds wanted elsewhere follow winds of their making
Whistle at your dog,
Adjust your sunglasses and aerobic outfit of perpetual retirement
Let others work suffer die and produce
Just allow a wide berth this morning
This animal needs it
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