Feather

Sometimes a feather is more than a feather.

Before I go in

Four geese practice a vee

In the parking lot

Outside the therapist’s office.

Now at home

I find a feather

Watered red.

It seems a cardinal lost it

For me to find.

On this day when the leaves

Have not yet begun

To turn;

On this day when

The birds mass in the back yard;

On this day when

The geese practice vees

And cardinals leave tokens

Of the coming colors

For me to find.

On this day of all days:

A feather.

Promises of blue jays

I love opening my eyes and knowing it will be a good day.  On a day like this I can hear the promises of blue jays for the winter... and believe them

I know the day will be good

Or mostly good

When I open my eyes

And think

Oh a new day

I have plans

For this day

So I get up

Open the doors

Hear the geese honking

Getting ready to fly south.

They too have heard

It will be a harder winter

Than the last.

The flicker

Makes his flicker noises

As he loads up on bugs

On the dead branch

Of the ash.

The blue jay promises

I will stay here

In his raucous blue jay voice.

Oh a new day

I think

A new day

And promises of blue jays

For the winter.

Prelude to the day

I drove my daughter to school early this morning.  Instead of crawling back into bed, I am sitting and contemplating the day.  It is a clinic day today.  I have a new client.  Much is planned.  I consider how I will fly today.

When much is planned

I dig up more unplanned time

To mulch around it.

I hold the early morning,

A cup of coffee

Warm in my hands.

Light snow

Now heavier

Signals more time

For travel.

I missed the sandhills return

This year

But the Canada geese,

The ones who left in autumn

Now return In perfect vees.

They show the ones left behind

What it means

To fly as God*s intent.

Not the ragged practice vees

They muster

All winter.

When much is planned

There must be

Unplanned time

To hold a warm cup of coffee,

Consider the day.