Malcontents

Eight feathery class Aves (starlings)
Encompass a mud puddle
Between a cornfield and highway
Each taking turns splashing around
While the others stand vigilant
For any imminent danger
From above or from the traffic
Jam my wife and I were caught
Amidst, while impatient drivers
Vented their frustrations by blowing
Their different, raucous sounding horns
at no one in particular.
I looked at the feathery flock
and said, we should be as content.
What was that dear? She inquired.
Nothing dear, just thinking out loud.

poem by Albert Ahearn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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