A Park Full of Larks

In the darkness, There sits a lark, Who sings about madness, Silence sits outside her park, Where she sits, Contemplating sadness, While she visits her baby chicks, Who will grow into singing larks, Themselves a gift from above, To all the attendies, Park goers listening to their song of love, While sharing a box of…


Red feather flapping ahead, Prideful crown arched in blood red glory, Tweeting from his deep red belly, Protecting his territory and mate’s bed, Beautiful cardinal, fly high, my Grandma’s favorite bird.