She’s chattering loudly
in the full spruce tree,
long before I can see her.
I stand,
honoring her vigor,
enjoying her lengthy announcements.
I ask permission to pass.
She chatters on,
permission not granted.
I stand.
She comes into eye contact,
six feet away.
Why would you want to pass?
Am I not beautiful, fascinating?
I drop my consciousness
into my heart. I stand.
She comes down the tree
to the base,
now five feet away and
she makes full eye contact.
Deciding to trust me,
she scampers off to her larder
and returns with a pinecone.
She hunches,
beautifully filled out.
Her tail, fully feathered
lies along her back,
the black tip,
an ostrich feather
blowing in the wind.
One pinecone isn’t enough.
She returns to her cupboard
and eats a second three branches high,
debris dispersing in the wind.
I shift on my feet.
She doesn’t notice.
She and I,
so proud of each other,
So clearly simply
separate flowers,
each in full bloom,
in the
Lizette Estelle Stiehr
Above
Love your Solstice poem. Will you be blogging from South Africa...hope so!
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