caused yesterday's grackles
to sit high amongst winter's dead
branches, as if waiting
after another heart test
to attack us as we walked underneath
their gospel of screams, undeniable.
But, if not for the grackles
today's blue skies and sunshine
would not call me to clean
the bird bath, scattering
squirrels, small sparrows, wrens,
even bold blue jays
with my new clumsiness.
From my window, even the grackles
shared the bird feeder so politely
it was pleasing to watch, to refill
both water and seed, so all could
partake, a pristine scene,
a communion of sorts
where there is no loss.
Changed only by the arrival
of one lone male cardinal,
so confident and red, as the afternoon
shadows cast long slivers of light
through my broken fence that bothers
my neighbors more than me, more than
the grackles, gone with their shimmery
shrouds of such elegance.
This unfolding of Spring is worth
the price I pay, a pittance,
for moments behind hundred year old
glass window panes that have seen
much, much worse over the years,
so I find myself grateful, knowing
if not for the grackles,
my spirit would be the poorer.