Waiting is for the Birds
(Forest Park. St. Louis, MO -photo taken by Laelia Watt, June 2011)
The storm rages,
but outside, it is calm-
The birds communing
like old friends in the stream
They appear unconcerned
by my troubles,
or theirs
Watching them does nothing
to solve my grief,
or rumple their feathers.
They nibble on;
and I look on;
the water burbling under our feet
How odd are they,
of different types standing together.
One parading calmly as if guarding
the mother and her ducklings.
All periodically glancing
At the featherless creature
sitting mournfully on a rock nearby
Watching them does nothing
to solve my grief.
Nevertheless,
the Wait
is suddenly more bearable
The storm rages,
but outside, it is calm-
The birds communing
like old friends in the stream
They appear unconcerned
by my troubles,
or theirs
Watching them does nothing
to solve my grief,
or rumple their feathers.
They nibble on;
and I look on;
the water burbling under our feet
How odd are they,
of different types standing together.
One parading calmly as if guarding
the mother and her ducklings.
All periodically glancing
At the featherless creature
sitting mournfully on a rock nearby
Watching them does nothing
to solve my grief.
Nevertheless,
the Wait
is suddenly more bearable
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