Poem: The Winter of Birds

The Winter of Birds

Birds do not sing in winter,

Cherubic tongues snowed in

By a desperate northern wind

The aftermath of a storm – debris

& broken wings.

In the silhouette of memories,

The tinge of dying light, fields

Of snow that clothed the ground –

They never croaked a sound,

Perhaps, they'll wait for spring.


                                        by Sally Delancy ©