There are always stones Poetee

There are always stones Poetee

I’ll try just about anything to get my writing read.
So, here’s a Poetee.

There are stones in the sky
They’re everywhere
“Stones?” you may say
But I swear they are there.

A fledgling nestling
In its twiggy bed
Its little beak raised
And ready to be fed.

Slaggy squashed worms,
This mother knows best,
A stone washed down
In this muckiest mess.

That stone in their bellies
Grinds corn, seeds and rye
All through their lives
Till they finally die.

So don’t be surprised
Among feathers and bones
If you see in their death pile
There are always some stones.

There are always stones Poetee belongs to the following groups:

Art and Stories Made For Children