Ghost Dance
In a blurred dance of morning light,
Two titmice vie in hungry fight,
Wings a-flutter, swift and bright,
Against a backdrop, soft and slight.
Bokeh whispers in the air,
Glistening specks of tender care,
While in the fray, feathers flare,
A moment fierce, a beauty rare.
Nature’s song, both wild and fair,
Captured in a lens’s glare,
Two small warriors, unaware,
Of a world that stops to stare.
