Oh, wild bird

From Dover to the East there are white cliffs
The little path is bordered by wild flowers
We saw the Lighthouse looking in good shape
And lay down nearby on the grass, sweet hours

But now alone and troubled by my sight
I shall not visit cliff tops nor high towers
I stay in woods or gardens or green lawns
I hope you will not think I am a coward

Even little ladybirds or ants
Enthrall me as I watch them in their bowers
And when it’s wet I watch the clouds pass by
And sometimes in the heat we enjoy showers

Vision narrow focussed may be wrong.
With mind relaxed, we know the wild birds’ song

I welcome comments and criticism

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