A Blessed Garden

Black birds on silver stalks,

Nest twigs in their beaks

A flash of cardinal red

Overlapping patterns of bird calls,

Some raucous,

Some lilting,

Songs of love and songs of

"Keep away, this is mine".

I shade my eyes from the sun that will soon warm this room,

And see the lone feather on the window,

Marking the startling contact of the morning dove that greets me,

Lying in my old garden shoe, eyes closed,

Little feet drawn into its soft body.

- Jan Baty