Almost underfoot,
you work the ground
for bugs and spiders,
diligently clean window
screens in morning light—
yet play second fiddle
to your canyon cousin’s
higher-up, closer to
the conifers and pines where
sticky-sweet bear clover
plunders my senses.


3 responses to “ROCK WREN

  1. I love this poem, and the bird too.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I love Spring, because of the variety or life you bring us. Looking forward to images of the Burrowing owls. Love the way you got those stems to grow out of the granite.


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