Sparrows

Soft underbelly,

mind lapping on waves,

the circular, rolling

buckets and graves.

Upwards, rising;

terrible thieves

duck and agape

in the whistling leaves.

Popping beneath

a blanketed sheen,

catching the sun;

a shimmering glean.

Ruck, duck and surge

to sunset: the purge.

Riptides embroiling;

I must resist the urge.

#365DaysOfPoetry