In search of story


February 26.21: Coping

A bird in the hand

is better (it’s said)

than two in the bush,

but I’d say instead

that a bird in the bush

is the very best thing

when you long for a sign

there may one day be spring.

Yes, he is scarfed

and wearing his hat,

but his bright eye belies

any torpor in that.

He’s ready to nest,

and, oh, how he sings!

so sure is his heart

of seeds and of wings.



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Connections: November 10


Alas for the chirpless winter,

alack for the silent yard.

Misery me, no warbled banter,

lack-a-day-dee, it’s hard.

I miss the feathered psaltery,

the chickadee’s lilting lute;

their raucous sunny madrigal

is now sepulchral mute.

So with shrug and resignation

that comes with certain years

I face the fallow station:

empty nest and empty ears.