Welcome,
morning!
12-9-2014
Chill and
gray,
a typical Midwest
December day.
No
compelling attraction to the out-of-doors
yet the urge
to walk cannot be ignored.
I follow the
path
through the
nearby park,
past boney trees,
wooden post Ts
that support electric wires.
The tennis
court and roller hockey rink stand quiet.
Perhaps
later in the day some action there.
This early
morning I am alone in a skeletal world,
yet not
alone.
From the
high wire I hear antiphonal crows.
They bat a
rhythm of fives and sixes back and forth.
So perfect,
so distinct, this measured poetry,
is it crow
haiku, or shall we say “High Caw?”
The
recitation continues as I move down the path
Where the
sopranos of the bird world are in rehearsal.
Chickadees
chirp their name in chorus
while the
descant is carried by wrens,
their staccato
brilliance unmistakable.
Then, as if
on cue, all falls silent.
Only the
wind in tall grasses reminds me,
Shhhhhhhhh.
Behold,
morning! A new day of possibility.
A flock of Mallards
leave a criss-cross wake on the pond
As they
follow their curiosity to the grassy bank.
I spy a
bright pink feather, out of place?
Or a special
gift,
a reminder that every day
is an
invitation
to embrace the
wonder, the mystery
that
punctuates all of life with potential for beauty and surprise.
