The Red-breasted Nuthatch
sits on my deck railing
looking at me as if
he knows I don't belong here.
He's right. Smart bird,
he recognizes a refugee
when he sees one.
- mce
Merely a holding cell for journal entries, wry observations, attempted witticisms, poems and random aphorisms. Sense of humor required. This is poetry, NOT biography. Please do not call 911, stage an intervention or suggest AA. Everyone deserves their own death, allow me mine. Tentative conclusions encouraged. Advice ignored. Absolute truths not welcome. Enlightenment unlikely. Play on.
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