by Mary E. Lowd
March 10, 2021
Birds fill the air,
Like tufts of dandelion down,
Soaring and swooping by the sea,
But on the rocky shore,
One bird, face painted like a clown,
Does not fly free,
Toiling away,
Planning for future days,
The puffin makes a nest,
Where someday, eggs will rest.
* * *
From the book: Some Words Burn Brightly: An Illuminated Collection of Poetry