When conditioned to the silence of winter, that first sound of bird song can be surprising. Its music is a far better reminder than a date on the calendar that warmth will soon return. Even if there is snow on the ground, each trill carries a seed of spring to plant inside the hearts that hear them.

A bird intends its song
to be heard. It is a gift,
inspiring music
in an appreciative ear.
The worlds needs more songbirds.

Song choice: Party in the USA by Miley Cyrus (acapella version)

This poem is linked up to Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads' Tuesday Platform. It is also linked to Poets United Poetry Pantry 392.


I’ve known where he goes. How could his longing be a secret? Especially when I see the hunger in his eyes when someone says your name. At last he understands how his desire can be his ruin. Yet that knowledge means nothing when his mouth desires only to be filled by you.
I can only watch
his delight in licking lips
still sticky from you.

This poem was inspired by a prompt at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads: Love Hurts. It's also linked up to Poets United Poetry Pantry 391