Wednesday, May 24, 2017


I’ve been raking slowly so my stitched arm
can ease its way back into use. The maple leaf
carpet covers the whole lower garden
with a red that leaks into brown. I pick up twigs
for kindling. Sitting to rest on the aged seat
angled awkwardly near the roses I gaze
through branches at the still hazy morning sky
and notice a parrot high in the tree. A slash
of green it quietly worries away at a leaf
or bud I can’t really see. As I watch
I see another one lower down
hard at its work, and think how you always
encounter these ones in pairs. Minutes pass
and then my eye is drawn to the very top again
where a third bird is hanging upside down
on the very end of the smallest of stems,
an avian acrobat curled in the air
with confident ease. Now I have three birds
and I sit with them till a breeze stirs
and they burst away with feathers flung at the sky.

I am not thinking of my arm when I rake on.

23 May 2017

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