Saturday, July 16, 2011



A wren’s pantomime on the brittle branch
is so much like presiding over life down here.

Shape up, toe the line, be civilized, connect,
or run the risk of being cut down to size.

Why can one not remain alone, a wood hermit
or an anarchist maybe? Why join a lumpen lot?

From its perch, the wren swipes its bill back
and forth on a dead limb sharpening for a kill.

A hog sneezes, betrays its refuge, quivers back
into its hole. Too late. It has joined the pack.

In this part of the woods, beaks are scimitars
to keep the venturous lumped in their holes.

—Albert B. Casuga

Prompt: A Carolina wren swipes its bill back and forth on the end of a dead limb, as if sharpening a knife. A groundhog sneezes in the strong sun.---Dave Bonta, The Morning Porch, 07-16-11

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