We stop beside the flamingos,
their necks more question marks
than exclamation points—
I revel in their improbable beauty,
how their very being
brightens the bleak midwinter,
wonder if I might
not find a little
pink in me.
We stop beside the flamingos,
their necks more question marks
than exclamation points—
I revel in their improbable beauty,
how their very being
brightens the bleak midwinter,
wonder if I might
not find a little
pink in me.