This air is thick enough to drown in
Wading through your words
Lightning flashes in the hills like my
anxiety after the press conference.
Summer storm raging.
They announce back to school plans.
I’m watching the hills for forest fires,
fearing the burning.
Brief respite: rain splatters on the back deck,
before oppression descends again,
and our power goes out.
Poem- Summer storm August 1, 2020
poem- anonymous July 14, 2020
Who are you
generous flower sender?
Encouraging words
Kind thoughts
Huge bouquet
Mystery.
(Lovely words in the card, but no indication of who sent this gorgeous bouquet!)
Comments Off on poem- anonymous
poem- Father’s Day June 21, 2020
My father’s ashes are beside me. Once
Every day was Father’s Day,
Now every day he’s absent,
But every day he’s here.
Love never dies.
Devotion binds fond memories;
so long as we remember him,
it’s always Father’s Day.
poem-grey June 8, 2020
The first day
my mother did not see
dawned grey and heavy
with dew.
But still the finch greeted me
with its joy at waking to
the new.
poem-wind June 7, 2020
The crows auk auk their condolences
The finch assures that life goes on.
My mother is now spirit in the breeze,
(or the stiff head-wind,
’cause she was stubborn like that).
poem-song June 6, 2020
It is my mother’s second
dying day.
I awaken, heart heavy,
to the house finch’s
happy song.
An accompanist,
as a spirit dances its
release
into eternity.
poem- slow June 5, 2020
How is this day only half over?
Only six hours since I told the doctor
palliation would be her choice,
a life-time is dragging by.
Each minute means more
than those before it.
An infinite embrace
unfolding, a somnolent
soul journeying
forward.
poem- identity June 4, 2020
Your name drips heavy irony:
joyful, playful, desirable.
Was that a youthful you
I never knew?
What carved through
who you were meant to be
and left such an antipode
behind?
poem- fade June 2, 2020
Certainty sits in my throat while
rain weeps uneasy farewell
to the ambulance.
She will not fare well.
She is failing, fragile.
Rain washes tenuous existence
down the street in ripples
and rivulets.
It’s all downhill from here.
poem- seeing May 31, 2020
I see a new person now.
The years’ baggage-
so much bitterness and resentment-
has disappeared like lost luggage.
She stands at the Baggage Claim,
befuddled
then teeters down the hall,
oblivious to its loss.
This peaceful creature
is new.
There is no room to hold the past
against her.
Shawn L. Bird 