Quiet Places

                        ROSEATE              

The finch's head never seemed redder than today at the feeder.
His chirp like a whisper in the wind.

He faces me through the screened window nodding his head.
I smile in return.








       SASHAY

The acrobat returns
  flushing the birds as she climbs the feeder.

Nature's entertainer leaps, crawls, creeps,
  turning to see if anyone is watching?

I am watching, still, behind the glass and
  wild whirling winds as spring turns to winter.

Nibbling unconcerned, she scatters safflower 

  to the doves below.
Then wipes and washes herself,
  how strange that I have never noticed. 

With the fluid motion of a tight wire walker she balances
  and prepares for her next show.
Head first she slides down the tube
  reaching for the furthest opening.

Upside down and swallowing downside up,
  or had you noticed? 
Quiet. Quiet places. Watch. Observe. Listen.
  Quiet breathing, shoulders relaxed. 

I think perhaps this moment of quiet observation near this window on the world will never happen again.