Singularity
unfeathered, sipping seeds
from a martini glass
made from an abandoned
hummingbird nest, I ache
squirrels once talked to me
now, I dig for their lost nuts
in our browning yard, hollow
laid out, like lost moments
gift me with a red-blue face
majestic tail, the crazed dance
of the male turkey’s dress
do not hinder me a simpleton
notes rise from murmurations
of starlings, as they graze bodies
I sit on a cloud’s cheek, lonely
how I long to merge this jubilation
a stubborn state of marcescence
young oaks cling like warriors
to long ago dead, decayed leaves
girdled with her fetid acorn shells
they lie in hope, to coax a blue-bird
whose songs bring torpid buds
to bloom upon my lips like spring
and stand the strength of winter’s snow
united, the red oak and I will not let go
our youth clings to us willfully
her brown leaves wrap trembling limbs
my breath sears my heart with hers
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I hope everyone has a wonderful week. Thank you so much, Michelle.
Wonderful poem. Congratulations, Joni!
Thank you Timothy. I feel like the older I get the more I want to cling to the seasons and relate to them. Thank you so much for reading and big hugs and blessings to you and your family. Hugs, Joni
Congratulations, Joni, that your fascinating poetry is posted there!
Thank you Timothy. I appreciate the compliment and hoping you will get to spend some wonderful time with family for Christmas. Big hugs and blessings, always 🫶❤️
Your work reflects your beauty and depth, Joni. <3 <3 <3
Dearest Anna, Thank you for reading this piece. There are a lot of bits and pieces of this person who I was, who I am and what I am left with, in this write, “Singularity.” I keep waiting for the peace that I thought age would bring but so far that has not happened, and sometimes I find myself wondering if that is because I don’t deserve it. I wish I was stronger, but I find the older I get the more I cry instead of the less I cry. I think sorrow lingers like the morning dew. The sun comes out and it vanishes as does the moments of sorrow which are like a bitter herb, come back momentarily. The little seasonal reminders that we are and were and will always be a bit different. However, I cling to the “Grace,” that God gives to each of us, and I know that this time here is but a blink of an eye, and I am still grateful to be part of that. I know you are too, dearest Anna. You have achieved so much, and helped so many and have found a way to comfort many friends. Blessings and love to you dear Anna and Merry Christmas.