A Bulfinch pillar box red caught my eye fluttering helpless in the broad bean rows took to my open held out hand with no fight left opening its beak to weakly peck its only sign of resistance and with one last gasp took flight into the heaped bush where the Sparrow flock goes crazy at the intruder’s sorrowful mistake.
And so we shroud ourselves in Pilate’s cloak wash our hands of the stain of all responsibility and look out on this world with all the disdain the falsely blamed feel and what’s left — silence.
"I have enough time to rest, but I don't have a minute to waste". Come and catch me with your wise words and we will have some fun with our words of wisdom.