The Sunday Whirl Wordle #733
Amid the traffic and blaring horns
drivers sitting rigid stiff confined
within the controlled atmospheres
of their stick shift and automatic conveyances
halted for the moment by the snarled congestion
of holiday travelers and local rush-hour workers
I turned and pressed the window down button
releasing a portion of my glass and metal enclosure
enabling a treat of fresh wintry air to pass
across my over-warm and blushing cheeks
still reddened by my rarely released and never seen
out-burst of frustration and temper
It was then within the brush and dried thistles
lining the side of this overused
and ill thought out highway
I heard the faint but lovely chirping
of a wee little bird perched upon
a thin thorny twig looking fit as a fiddle
He sang and he sang with all of his might
as though saying goodbye or maybe hello
to all of the humans in line on this night
going nowhere so fast on this stalled pavement lot
I thought as I sat contemplating the scene
what a beautiful world and gave thanks once again
Gypsie’s Wonderful World of Words 
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