Sunday Congregation

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Birds shriek loud this Sunday morn.
Intrigued, I cozy to the window
To witness the coup,
Grey feathers flapping,
Bitter birds tapping
At dirt and seed
My partner, weeks before, threw.

Hunger brings out my wild, too.
I open the window and toss seeds,
Like mardi gras beads
Into dust and weeds,
And watch the congregation
Chirp like a choir on a Sunday morn.
Oh, how I love Sundays,
and Lent.

–L. Froman

This work is copyrighted and can not be duplicated or reprinted without permission from the author.

If you’re interested in more thoughts on integrity, compassion and grace–if you’re looking for exploratory questions to unearth pieces of your soul, check out my book Tao Flashes. Or visit me at or on twitter @taoflashes.


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