Dying as we cleanoil from feathers, beaks, feetone in ten survives.One in ten survivesoil in lungs, gut, so toxic.Brace your breaking heart.Brace your breaking heartThis may be the one who livesif you are thorough.If you are thorough,fiercely patient and hopeful,feather by feather.Feather by feather is how we must save our worlddying as we clean.
Roxie! You never cease to amaze me!Neither haiku nor limerick--please remind me what this form of poetry is called.
Oh, I remember what it is! A pantoum: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/5786
A limerick isn't the place to see murres with an oily black face.Our faces turn greenuntil birds come clean.(For humor, our Murr is the ace.)See "Murrmurrs" in Pat's "O my" link list.
Ha! I thought of our friend Murr when I was writing about murres, too Rosemary. For anyone who hasn't yet discovered the laugh-fest that is Murr Brewster, find her at http://murrbrewster.blogspot.com/
Talk to trees and cloudsTalk to everything aliveThey all answer back
Yeah, then Murr hits us with Lily the geriatric pig smiling her last piggy smile in the sun. Why couldn't she have ended with,"The emus' only job was to be good emus and they suck at it."