Photo Zen

A Goodbye Hymn

High overhead the wild geese fly
their honking fades into the air,
a threnody, a sad goodbye

to lakes and ponds that don’t reply,
mallards and coots no longer there.
High overhead the wild geese fly

away from cold wind’s chilling sigh.
They sing a chorus of despair
a threnody, a sad goodbye.

I wave my arms, somehow I try
to call them back, but unaware,
high overhead the wild geese fly.

They call each other, pair to pair,
a melody exquisite, rare,
a threnody, a sad goodbye.

I’ll miss them, strutting smartly by –
their songs like penitential prayer,
as overhead the wild geese fly,
a threnody, a sad goodbye

Spider’s Web

I leave the abandoned spider’s web,
empty and lifeless, in the corner of the back porch

an offering for the goldfinches and humming birds, which
they will use as the glue that holds their small nests together,

a shield against wind and rain when eggs hatch – protection
from harm until the hatchlings fledge

instead, I sit in a pool of morning sun and ponder love,
the spider’s web that holds a family together – safe and secure

Why Bother

d’Verse Poets Pub – Quadrille #126 – Come “bother” up a poem

Why Bother

This poem didn’t bother to get
dressed – just stayed in its pjs all day
not bothered by the flapping
of its slippers or the flopping of its
hair-do, hoping no one will bother it
until it doesn’t have to bother
masking its feelings

https://dversepoets.com/2021/04/19/quadrille-126-come-bother-up-a-poem/

Migration Story

They fly in a V formation, a skein
of Canada Geese, honking
joyfully as they arrive back at the
lakes and ponds where they were born.
Landing on the water, as if on water skis,
they trundle together onto land making
soft sounds in a language of their own.
They make me think of a superfluity of nuns
in their black wimples, reciting prayers
of gratitude for a safe migration.

Amid Chaos

PAD 14 – from where I’m sitting

Amid Chaos

The morning sun slants through the kitchen window where
I sit,
surrounded by the lacey pattern the shadows make on the the wall.
Amid
the calmness of morning bird calls, Bach, and tea there is
chaos
at the bird feeder. Finches and sparrows battling for position, not
waiting
their turn – for theirs is a battle of survival not a negotiation
for peace.