Won’t Run From Love
Sly, daring, road running Time of Love, not quite spring But the waning days of winter sing Of the promise — A Whisper Of the returning season Of raising a new generation Of cunning birds… This one with Lizard in mouth An offering for his devote Lifemate and lover. In the road they dance And show that they have No patience for the changing clime Rare to take flight, in pursuit he might Soar from rooftop to rooftop. With coos, clicks and beeps He woos his sweet and as we pass They pay no mind to our kind.