#121
I don’t know if this is a poem for Friday or for May Day.
I am unable to identify all of the
songs
surrounding me.
Can you mimic the towhee?
Can you tell me what the
rattle sound is? It should be an insect
not a bird.
Robin, cardinal, redwing blackbird, chickadee
a distant beep from a
machine backing up.
Last year’s cattails clutter the
ponds edges, providing protection
camouflage for fish
and reptile.
The greens and
browns dominate
today under cloudy skies, quiet
stillness that
comforts me.
This is the place I stood while
My Mother was taking her final breaths.
She was gone taken by the
calm that
embraced
the too hot and sticky morn.
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