Poetry

My bedroom’s window is an awesome thing
wherein birds are reflected, as they sing
sometimes pecking or knocking on it
drawing them to land, to start their whistling,
 
and I have a lovely kind of view
of hollyhocks covered with dew,
growing over a fallen tree, with ferns
and bright geraniums looking crisp and new,
 
although I am alone, are on my own
I do see at times that the birds have flown,
I know that nature’s beauty affects me,
see the leaves in autumn falling down
 
and nature speaks right into my heart,
whether being together or apart.