Some mornings you go outside to take the air and gaze at the garden, and then you glance at the tomato patch and find that once again, birds have gotten inside the netting. Not one, but three birds. And they're still inside. And there happens to be a handy piece of long flooring strip sitting on the grass. And this is what happens.
But you better believe I put the fear of God into those birds!
And I saved the last Cherokee Purple, which was delicious.
Three Poem Re-Drafts
3 hours ago