by Ethel Mortenson Davis The unfurrowing of new leaves is like a carefully synchronized orchestra with each musician in exact harmony. But we do not stand and applaud. Only Oriole gets up and sings his splendid song, dressed in brightly colored vestments.
Unfurrowing
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry
fourwindowspress 
I confess I don’t know what an oriole looks or sounds like; we’re not (as far as I know) blessed with his presence here in the UK. But your poem brings him and his ‘splendid song’ vividly to life for me, and is a bright light in a dark day. Thank you, Ethel.
That is a very nice comment. Thank you. Ethel
Here is a picture, Nick. Ethel
Thank you – what a beautiful bird, and a wonderful photograph. Nick
A fine performance. And gratis too! 🙂
The same to you. Thank you. Ethel
Wish we had Orioles here in the northwest. Your poem is delightful, Ethel.