Thursday, June 30, 2016, 7:03 a.m. EST
They are not metaphors,
the wrens and cardinals and jays
that flit and fly through my backyard
nesting, feeding, calling out
across the fence line
as the sun crawls too quickly
through the pine,
and the mosquitoes quicken
to the scent of sedentary middle-age blood.
They are living beings
being only what they were created for–
to flit and fly, to nest and feed,
singing out across the fences
as the sun opens over the treeline.
I swat another mosquito,
peer into my empty cup of coffee,
and peel myself from the patio chair
to go shower for work.
Copyright © 2016 Scott Daniel Massey