Blackbird

There is a baby
blackbird
chirping
just
outside my
bedroom window

It is early
Sunday morning

thin grey light
illuminates
my white curtains

Only The Spaniel
and I are awake
and the baby bird
singing
for breakfast

A hush
settles
over everything
like dust

There is a
quiet
emptiness
about
every
Sunday morning

Sunday Morning Coming Down

which is a song
about hangovers
about living fast
and hard

These days
I’m hungover
on Life
on Death
on the Unknowable

while the quiet
seeps into my heart
filling my chest

and with it
a kind of peace

I wasn’t expecting that

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