“For the arms of the wicked shall be broken, but the Lord sustains the righteous.”
The Dark-eyed Junco
sits serenely on
the leafless branch,
swaying in cold drizzle,
looking this way,
then that,
over winter’s
haggard handiwork.
A sudden wind gust
rustles the dead
leaves piled
up against the
chain link fence,
while she perches
undisturbed
at this dull sheen
of scarcity–
vain veneer
over today’s
as yet unseen
sustenance.