Morning

The morning was warming
the sky was vein blue
behind the everywhere branches

when from nowhere out, a blackbird
landed on a bough that now
turned yellow,

and began to comb herself
with an orange beak
while traffic purled politely down in the street,

watching the sky, content,
till joined by another
grackle to whom she cackled

'You, there! Off my twig.'
adding something sharp about the neighborhood;
Probably friendly fire-

Then, in a tussle of bills and quills
ire took fire in the chill
gutters froze and rainbows ran away.

Children cried and basketballs shied from hoops-
the affair had the air of a silly domestic dispute
gone hideously public.

Both flew off in the end-
leaving the neighborhood calm as before:
Nature permitting battles
but never wars.

poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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