& theN on my way to lunchtiMe ::: i notice the
little birds ::: the chickadees or soMe birds like thiS fluttering
about the bushes in the parkinglot of the workplace betweeN
alL the parked cars of the busy busy workers of the ominous brick
building
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
i know they aRe scurrying about iN the cold lookiNg
for soMe foodstuffs iN the freeziNg cold ::: the wind whooshing
about ::: occasionally they just play w/ each other i aM almost
certaiN ::: but for the most part they aRe lookiNg for the food
for lunchtiMe
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
the birds keep oN flittiNg about they barely
make the noiSe you know? just the flittiNg of their
wiNgs occasional squeaky noiSes & such veRy calM
creatures aRe theSe
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
i sit dowN to write for a bit & flip through
aN old notebook of miNe ::: although it is freeziNg cold outside
& i caN feeL the raw cold bite at my knuckles i seNse
this iS good tiMe to either write or reflect iN generaL i
doO not need food for now i guess & so aS i flip through
the notebook — i find this old poeM i wrote long ago
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