They do death good
Walk among phantoms
with a spring in the step
Take kids in royal prams
for a picnic Light candles
for night strolls when the snow
falls in duck down Etch
a rock, snip a hedge into
a green armchair Profiles
of Nan and Pa face-to-face
in an almost-kiss.
Even the Angel of Death,
fat cherub, grins from a shingled
roof. Hans Christian looks on
from a plain brown stone,
clipped and smart.
They make it art,
not like Sylvia, but good.
They make it sing.
Julie Maclean 
very much liked this poem and the flamingo but the Like button is not working this end goodness knows why…take care ann
Thanks, Ann, and for your kind comments. Some of these WordPress items remain a mystery. None of these likes appear on the page. Just located them.