Promptly Poetry - Book 3

Birds of Winter

December morning
Wrapped in cotton wool,
the world stands still.
Silent trees hold out empty arms
no birdsong greets the day.
And yet, high in the pine -
so proud of its green
that it is already shrugging off
its white blanket in the morning sun -
there is movement.
Behind the frosted glass
the cat sits with hunter’s eyes fixed
upon the desired prey,
the birds of Winter.


Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2024-2025)" 

Week 21 11/28/22

Prompt - Birds