FreeWrights Peer Review™

Nearly Done

The Ruddy Turnstone
with only one leg and no feet
did not head north this winter,
and leaves every stone unturned.

Save one.
To perch,
wobble
teeter on the brink
of my garbage can.

(A German tourist was outside
taking notes, but flew home
before the poem was finished)

maybe teeter instead of teetering.

This thing packs a wallop in the image-generation department, for such a short piece of work.

Thanks Bluejay. One less 'ing' word to worry about.

k

Might be time to break out the what if factor and/or get to know him in your mind.

Promising imagery.

Allen