Paul Gerard Reed


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The Wren

Stepping warily into a grey morning
With mist shrouding the hedgerows
Damp pavements and frost-bitten walls
Thick socks on to protect the toes

All seemed lifeless and a little forlorn
The way things feel now and then
Until uplifted by a crescendo of sound
The defiant song of the wren

[Hata Bildir]