Water for the Birds


There are so many things to be done

They press on me

They nag my conscience

And I feel empty inside

Like a suitcase after vacation

Everything is put away and I don’t want to pack again

Every day I change

My agenda changes

The summer weighs on me

Waves of humidity and laziness resonate in me

The sun slows me down

Even though I am inside

So I go outside

And I pour water in the birdbath

And succumb to the quiet

I sit in the swing

And watch the wasp circle and land on a leaf

I see the fly in crisp detail on a spike of pine straw

The pill bug crawling

The cat folded on the lawn chair

A red and grey bird dips into the birdbath

And gradually it all makes sense

I see what I need to do today

And I am at peace, looking forward to the day.

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Filed under Poetry, Synchonicity

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