SQUAWKING

I am sitting by the pool –
looking and listening –
hoping to find a poem somewhere.

 

I could choose the beauty I perceive
or choose the sounds the birds employ.

 

The particular birds I hear
offer nothing but a squawking sound
which comes across as unappealing to my ears.

 

The birds are offering their best
and are probably annoyed at nothing.

 

But I ‘m reminded that I squawk sometimes
with the words I choose to share with you.
My intentions then are to let you know
I’m capable 0f being displeased with life.
Surely some folks might consider a particular poem
as nothing more than squawking.

 

I hope I am allowed to be this way –
that’s part of who I am.

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