Dawn. A migrant wood thrush flits from branch to branch along the edge of the woods. In the yard, a grown fawn nuzzles its mother’s neck.
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Daily short takes from an Appalachian hollow
Daily short takes from an Appalachian hollow
Dawn. A migrant wood thrush flits from branch to branch along the edge of the woods. In the yard, a grown fawn nuzzles its mother’s neck.
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What a lovely scene.
HOME
Sometime, somehow, this heart
must learn to stop on some sill.
Flitting, it will not find its perch,
like the migrant wood trush,
flying from branch to branch—
nowhere as happy as the fawn
nuzzling its mother’s neck
at the edge of the woods where
home is. Will this heart soon
find its dawn, its perch, its home?
— Albert B. Casuga
10-03-11