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A stiff cowled Cardinal,
Cape red against the snow,
Its namesake emulates,
Aloof like, eyes aglow.

A Jay bird, miter blue,
Heads turn when he comes,
His crosier swinging true.
He scatters round the crumbs.

A Tufted Titmouse shy,
Like poverty portrayed.
A Nuthatch, white-breast, odd,
Humility displayed.

A childlike Chickadee
As fidgety as church
While rigid downey birds
Like parents stiff they perch

A perky pine squirrels dance
His tail ajerk suggests
The Latin ending chants
An Ite Missa est.

- William Malewitz

Too much bread isn't needed so spread it around.


Silence is golden but gold is dead.
Sound is alive and should be so.
Silence say some cause it's all been said.
Quiet has hands that wring with woe.

Graveyards are silent, tell only what's told.
Life is alert for song that's new.
Fresh thought yet abounds past testing the bold.
Strive to attune to now what's true.

- William Malewitz

The soaps can be bandits.

In-house and Outhouse

There the sonic piped powder room,
Aerosprayed and disinfected,
Comfort conscious, Esquire faces groom.
Telephoned and sheik injected.

Then the lonely wind swept outhouse,
Listing some and weather beaten.
Sound effects like Loons and Ruffed Grouse.
Thoughtful those who there are seaten.

- William Malewitz

Love isn't unnecessary

Snow Stories

I paged a book this morning,
Printed on fresh fallen snow.
Each step a new tale borning,
Big racked bucks and white tailed doe.

I trailed a fox a hunting,
Saw him dine on pheasant too.
A rabbit moonlight stunting.
Snow told where partridge flew.

The fingered feet of squirrel,
Raccoon slow to hibernate.
Each trail, each page uncurl,
Each sign, food, to meditate.

- William Malewitz

All hunters aren't hunting