>>>>>The Starlings swirled <<<<<

Gold flecks dispersed –

Neighboring black feathers…

Wings spread.

They flew to the hole in the roof;

long grass dangling from one beak,

berries in another…


Down to the ground

Peck, peck


Up to the top of the street lamp,

Lifting its slight wings trying to chirp


I lost count:

which one was an adult,

which one was a child ?


A Starling perched on the windowsill

Looking UP

Took awhile for the decision to be made

[fly back to  the nest, sanctuary, home..?]


>>>>>A Starling’s beak is golden.<<<<<


The Letter Poem

(Petitioning the Gods to Reveal Themselves)

Dear Sir and/or Madame;

 I am not blind to the worth,

the wonderful, the extraordinary


“Too much handiwork, too much lymph

in the temperament is making us

fat and mean.”  (Emerson, 1855 quote)

We need to be simple,

To possess free and brave thought.

I have great joy.

I find incomparable things said

Incomparably well, as they must be.

Large perception can only inspire.

I greet you at the beginning,

Rubbing my eyes a little to see if

This sunbeam be illusion or fact.

It’s fortifying.

I’m encouraged to trust, to believe, BUT

I still yearn to see my benefactor!

I want to visit you; I want to pay my respects.

Please let me.


Decided Not To Decide…

Lolling, rolling, yellow brown bumblebees, humid hot, itty-bitty birds twittering within green leaves, the big black cat sat on the white porch, his eyes half-closed. Each time he heard the bees buzz, feline flipping the bird [thumping his tail], splintered wood. Feathered chit-chat, corpulent cat responds, opening his eyes, BUT — the thick air was like a blanket. The black cat closed his eyes once more.

An odd thing, or two, can make you recollect…

Contemplating Scrapple, careful to ignore the contents (A too well considered “cruise” can spoil the courtship!), contemplating Scrapple I see my Father’s countenance, calm, as he cuts the Scrapple NARROW; using the cast iron skillet to fry-up breakfast: Eggs, Scrapple, with a side order of Toast. He looks happy in that kitchen cubicle. Contemplating Scrapple, I smile because I see my Father.