The worms

I turn to my window like a glossy
screen through which I can watch
life, birds debating matters of
great import, and clouds.

The clouds are the thoughts
of the sky drifting by, sometimes
light and playful, other times dark
and heavy.

The birds are probably talking about
the clouds too, and the gliding,
and the worms. Oh the worms
what a treat in these paltry days.