Sunday, December 1, 2019


I confess
Each time I drag
My tired and aching self
Out to fill the feeders,
Refresh the water basin,

I wonder just how long
 I can continue doing this.

But then I think
Of moonlit nights
And singing mockingbirds,
Investigating wrens,
Bobbing flights
Of chickadees and finches,
Quiet rows of doves on wires,

And I forget the pain,
The years and tears.

All I feel is joy,
All I feel is thankfulness.

©2019 John I. Blair, 11/19/2019

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