The shrike strives to do me in

shrike

Imgur.com

The shrike strives to do me in.
So much I see and hear pierces
me. And yet I wing to safer skies, preferring
to ignore the threat implied,
the burden-laden singing
of mocking birds of all bents.
Words of woe spoken,
words of disaster intoned,
notes of fear and terror trilled
into the evening air.

Once again I’ve evaded the barb.

 

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