<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=410221" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Good Morning Mr Magpie</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Good Morning Mr Magpie'<br>She saluted, then returned to her grounded<br>fact-based faith in her own impersonal reality.<br>Dismissal of her own superstitions, <br>seemed impossible.<br>She'd put it down to hard-ass habits<br>and the cudgels of conditioning<br>with which we all are kneaded.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Meanwhile in the treetops, <br>the wood pigeons were rallying.<br>The magpie's attention saw no salutes, <br>just a glint of an egg in a ray from the sun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He cared not who had moved the branch<br>that let the sunlight through.<br>He cared not how, an avalanche<br>had spawned a breeze that this way blew.<br>He cared not how the leaves had parted<br>just as he had chanced to fly<br>through places where the pigeons darted, <br>inviting his unwelcomed eye.<br>He held no concept of the quandry<br>filling his spectator's mind.<br>She paused, when pegging out her laundry, <br>and branded Nature, so unkind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cold coveter of shiny things, just as so many men...<br>'Good Morning Mr Magpie', she saluted once again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Hola+Mentirosa">Hola Mentirosa</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=410221" data-title="Good Morning Mr Magpie de Hola Mentirosa" data-description="'Good Morning Mr Magpie' She saluted, then returned to her grounded fact-based faith in her own impersonal reality. Dismissal of her own superstitions, seemed impossible. She'd put it down to hard-ass habits and the cudgels of conditioning with w..."></div> </div> </div>

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