My forward movement
startles us both –
you ground foraging
with the robins,
me delighted
by a flash of red –
heart at your nape.
You rise, alight
on tree branch
your squeaky call,
warning or greeting
stops me in my track –
patiently I wait
as you circle the tree
head bobbing, alert,
till we both settle
and my lens succeeds.
(For Granny Shot It’s Bird of the Day. Â Image from personal collection.)
Archeology –
the willingness
to forage
in the desert:
multi-layers
of fallout,
aftermaths,
abandonments –
unearthing
fragments,
reconstructing –
meaning,
history,
value –
brings redemption.
(This is a rewrite of a previously published work. Â Image from personal collection.)
Night lifts,
morning slipping
through blinds,
soul returning
from nightly foray,
body awakening,
a vague sense
of disconnection –
admit it,
you know this.