No prompts this morning, rather a poem quickly composed, the rhyme totally offbeat, written purely for fun.
Wrong Song I’m visiting the house out back, getting rid of excess fluids, when a bird beyond the quarter moon is objecting to my foreign tune, letting me know in strident cheeps "Waltzing Matilda’s pretty iffy, for a Canadian backwoods biffy!" I make a quick direction change, trying “Home, home on the range” and he attempts to follow along but clearly doesn’t know that song. So I mute myself and other birds become an exuberant chorus strong. If you’re a singer, here’s the thing when you have a critical audience: respectfully join the tunes they sing and let them set the cadence. 🙂