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.