The Lark.

 

Apologies for another second time around submission.


With sun dipped wing

and feathers glossed,

about the tumbled sky

he’s tossed.

Climbing, climbing

ever high,

until in wandering

eye he’s lost.

Now less a speck

far side the cloud,

this tiny life whose

song falls loud.

 

 

© sweetwater 2020
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