By LEAPS and bounds
Like tapioca,
but in a bucket,
thought the children
who watched and waited.
During the night,
it all happened,
nothing now to see.
"Listen" said their mother,
"the dawn chorus."
The usual cooing doves,
chirping little birds,
calls of the red kite
as if in a Western,
but off-key notes,
croaks, for they’re alive
and heading home.
but in a bucket,
thought the children
who watched and waited.
During the night,
it all happened,
nothing now to see.
"Listen" said their mother,
"the dawn chorus."
The usual cooing doves,
chirping little birds,
calls of the red kite
as if in a Western,
but off-key notes,
croaks, for they’re alive
and heading home.
This poem is copyright (©) Jill Vance 2024
About the Writer
Jill Vance
Jill Vance is a poet and interdisciplinary artist. Her poems have appeared in Truth Serum Press, Pure Slush and Green Ink Poetry. She hopes one day to have a pamphlet published of poetry and artwork.
