The little writing group has had several 'automatic' writing prompts. I sat down tonight and tried this off a thought that has been bouncing in my head since sunrise.
(c) 2019 Marie Lamb
Dozens of little brown birds,
striped heads, black eyebrows
and white chins.
In the dim but increasing light,
they have their own camouflage,
they are almost indistinguishable
from the leaves and rocks strewn in the drive,
until they move,
bustle, dart and peck.
Then they are a spectacle.
My grandfather used to call them chipping sparrows.
They are always busy, chipping away at things.
Out my window I see them
in the snow that fell last night.
They leave a multitude of little arrow shaped footprints.
Hopping about, always watchful.
They are aware of the seed and wary of the cat.