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Not a poem.

I have sat through some of the BAFTA Awards this evening and I'm afraid that it was becoming a usual parade of the usual actors making the usual speeches and producers doing likewise. I needed a break and went out into the back garden.

Traffic,
a distant murmur
Stopped in my tracks
spellbinding chorus of birds' evensong
Seeming,
every bird in the neighbourhood,
giving full heart,
to musical
melodic repertoire.
Sunset,
fading crimson.
Beautiful.

Not a poem.

What about "contemplation" then?

However you label it Byron, I was there! I stopped, I heard, I saw.
(....Didn't Caeser say something like that?)

Regards, Matj

Traffic noise, then birds
Sang glissando to honor
The fading red sun.

(pre coffee haiku).

Laurie

Thank you to both of you.

MJ, I'll give it some 'thought'

Alan, I've made several 'notes' about your encouragement. (say "encou'ragement" in French, it sounds delicious)

Traffic fading to
birdsongs praising sunset of
golden silken skies

B~

Ah. I see the word "courage" is in there...

Nice Haiku. Nice experience. Thanks for sharing and letting me play with your lovely description.

toodles,
L