Today's poem is by Tim Dooley

New Build

Between developments
of industrial sites,

we are stilled by a bush
vivid with green

from which the jargon
of small birds bursts

with a sudden
playground shriek.

Tits and finches
rise in numbers

gathering like buds
on the almost empty

branches of a birch.
And what to do but

laugh at such evidence
of determined life?

Copyright © 2017 Tim Dooley All rights reserved
from Weemoed
Eyewear Publishing
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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