Doug Holder (poetry)


Morning Birdsong

I hate it.
The cloying
cheap chirp
that you are enjoying.
The cheerful melody
amidst the nuclear plumes
yet the second wave
of monstrous waves.
There you are
out on a limb
you tweeting twits
you avian nitwits.
Your ruffle
my feathers
dropping your
turds at dawn
on my manicured suburban lawn,
singing insanely-
oh, the pain, the pain.

At dawn
both my
cat and I
stare at the sky
with ravenous eyes
as you belt out
your morning cries.


by Doug Holder

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