Poem: “A Quiet Settled”, fr. notebooks, Jim Stallings

A quiet settled

Like a village

Over the busy suburb

And in my robe

Leaned out in sharp cold

Where chickadees called

And flitted branch

To bare maple branch

In search of offerings

Nuts and juicy bugs

Gifts from nature

Scattered as in a puzzle

A scavenger hunt

My eyes scanned the village

Quiet with exhausted Christians

Their avatar born again

As they rise to seek a feast.

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Filed under first thought, flash poetry, poetry, prose poetry, works in progress

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