Now comes the quiet hour. The sunflower bows its heavy head, its soft petals curl, drop like tears to the dry ground. Now the finch eats her fill. She sparks across the garden to hungry chicks and sings one true ballad. All depends on this quiet hour, the faded flower, its heavy load, the finch's wings and one true ballad.
One reply on “Ballad”
Ha ha !
Laughing to myself.
Here, the grey squirrel will have the head off the sunflower way before the finch gets the chance to feed her second brood!
But with lower traffic noise, for the while, I hear The Ballad 😄
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