Cedar Waxwing

A spot of red
and dash of yellow
bandana masked eyes
how you transport me
to simpler times –
childhood days
when you and I
wiled away hours
hidden deep
beneath summer
canopies – maple,
beech and willow –
listened for whispers
on the wind,
searched for treasure
on rocky creek bottom.

Years since our paths
have crossed like this,
have you returned
as reminder –
your sweetness
a blessing, now
that I only linger
at woods’ edge?

No matter the reason,
I am content
that we meet again,
my friend of old.

(For Granny Shot It’s Bird of the Day.  Photo from personal collection.)

 

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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

22 thoughts on “Cedar Waxwing

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