Colony

Tiny Winter Poem Day 2

By Ellie HoovsPublished 2 years ago • 1 min read

tiny and black

scavengers all

hunting scraps of sugar

an oasis of toddler’s crumbs

found

left under a window.

I wonder

what must it be like

to never celebrate individuality

or dance

or sing

or write

to only

ever

hunt

Do they see their servitude?

Or are they programmed

only to work?

Breathing life into the lost and broken. Writes to mend what fire couldn't destroy. Poetry stitched from ashes, longing, and stubborn hope.

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