On this first day of spring

Chickadee in spring trees

A bird the color of the tree and trees
The grays and browns and bits of black
As though the tree itself had chirped
Let loose a bit of itself to hop
about and discover flight

---

I saw a chickadee this morning in some still bare trees and was captivated by its marvelous spirit.  I wrote these lines I'm sharing now.

whispers arise

the music is for the sad man
lying helpless with nothing but hope,
plain hope feeding lice
and gnats and flies and ulcers
and of course worms.

things come and hit hard
and overcoming becomes even harder
but he sings on
full of truth and kindness
and painful honesty;

all peculiar weaknesses
that never aided a man..

only sank him into distress
till he writhes out slow
Ha!
niceties that fed a man to grains.
but his whispers rise on..


P.S

Misfortunes are a real man's way of trudging through life.

agree

hands hold
palms grease
fingers twirl
like its an agreement
beyond all fallacies and truths
hidden inside
religious undertones.
lets agree..

and agree we shall.