Behind The Leaves
J
Juan Olivarez
0
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Behind the leaves of vibrant green,
Remaining virtually unseen.
Cocking his head as he looks at me,
Eying the cat, and poised to flee.
Singing all morning from way up high,
Musical melodies float to the sky.
Brightning the day from early light,
With his comely songs so fresh and bright.
The village minstrel perched on a bough,
Who needs hip hop anyhow?
Does he know the joy he brings,
To all the good lord's living things.
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