top of page

Happy Birds

My thought do dance

like happy birds

flitting around just to soak in all

the very last of autumn’s light.

The days will grow much colder yet

and the air won’t look so yellow.

The light that hangs in dying leaves

will be carried to the ground to sleep

and the old maple’s tired bones

will rattle atop the hill.

But down beneath the ground,

this autumn light will flow

to the roots of the old maple tree

whose beating heart still glows.

If I place my roots here in the yard,

then perhaps I will remember

to watch the birds

who will not rest

through cold days in December.


bottom of page