Natural healing
Gaudily-coloured, thoughtless litter,
a twisted, traffic-soiled tree.
The neglected house
with it's burglar-challenging boarding.
A slovenly parade
of prematurely closed shops.
The pushchaired child
in a tissue thin frock
and summer wellingtons,
gawping
at a passing hearse,
its occupants
a study in collective grief.
Suddenly,
a Blackbird,
dark as jet,
with a beak
the colour of school custard,
hops down
onto a knuckled branch,
opens his throat
and sings
the first few notes
of his honeysuckle song,
lifting my soul
and I know I will make it
through another day.
Hobbo's Poems 
Lovely. Little things like a bird’s song can be so uplifting. It does sound like the visual inputs around you at the time were a tad depressing.
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Thank you. You are right about the visual inputs, and that is exactly what happened. 🙂
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There’s nothing quite as uplifting as birdsong, or school custard. 😂
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😂 Especially when they are delivered together.
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Love the knuckle branch and the way you personalize this natural scene; healing ground without and within.
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Found
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👍😂
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Thank you 🙂
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You’re most welcome.
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I love that Hobbo. Brilliant.
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Thanks Vinny!
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