Birds the word

River spelled backwards is revir
(like revere your river)
water in what nurtures
the sure pure fervor of scandalous shimmers reflected in summers
natural systems don’t count by the numbers
style of the wildest flowers

the birds whip as they swoosh
landing on branch lines
loose handling in mid stride
Glide flying guides who prefer the outside
making a tortured cat cry
nest building from twigs and twine
some fought back when the hawk attacked
some come even more tightly packed, together
a mirage the size of clouds in bad weather
creatures like this
swim in bird baths of leisure pure as happiness
don’t even mind them chirping
The Palace of Rhymes is learning when they rest
the birds musicianship

We imitate their calls, observe with bernoculers
the guardians of the yard

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