[Critique Group 2] *Joan's march poem

[Joan Myles]

6

A feathery cloud of flight

Twitters past

Ascends to the rooftop

Down to the grass

Transmutes into half a dozen

Black-capped chickadees

Three flit around  the fuschia

plum and ivory horns blaring

Two to the bath

For a sip and quick cleansing

The solitary seeker Drifts away

His wings peddle

A deeper urge

Propelling him across the porch

Into the twilight sun
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