harbinger

the movement caught my eye
a sudden motion repeated
like a nervous twitch

the clouds are a pure white against blue
high up and distant this bright morning
and in the flowering cherry
a small fantail is ticking its tail

neither a wagtail nor a scissors-grinder
unless quite young
but a new bird among the blossom
yet another sign of spring

I will name the bird harbinger


© Frank Prem, 2001

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