A Joyful Little Bird



Autumn burns within me
As I feel the spring in his walk
A few gray strands mock me
The fine lines around my eyes
Smile benevolently  in return
The wrinkles on my hands
Indicate the years on this planet  Earth
I groan softly as I move
From one posture to the other
The pain in the joints poke me
In search of a comical interlude

Then there are many more

Hints covert as well as overt

Pointing a finger at the approaching winter

But I laugh in sheer pleasure of living

Life is just not sizzling in summer

Impaled in winter

Joyous spring and arduous autumn









 

 

 

Life is living beyond the seasons

Tells me a little bird

Every morn as I wake up to another day
She rocks the tender twigs of my plants
And shrieks in abundant glee
Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it?