If you wonder if someone cares, the answer
Chirps plaintively at your window. With simple
Pleasures of song and seed, a whimsical Wren
Makes furtive flights from dawn to dusk to
Ensure that you are loved another day.
Part spirit and part lute, a brown-plumed bird
With twitching tail and eyes white-striped, is
Not as she appears, just another bird that
Chants and swoops amongst glen and thistle,
Basking, flashing in summer’s radiant light.
This wren, a familiar friend from yesteryear,
Lived a short jaunt through stands of rain-wet
Spruces. She recollects fairer days of health and
Strength, raising families and praying in vigiled
Lantern light for returning cod fishermen,
Hand-oared dories on fog-thick nights.
As medicated years blend and fold, you can
Scarcely shift from chair to bed and back again.
Alas, she has escaped life’s earthly pains, yet out
Of love and friendship, she graces your days with
Watchful song, splendorous lighted notes.
While vision’s blurred, memories of decades past
Linger clear, needlessly haunting quiet moments
Of solemn days. Be assured that friends and
Family find no fault, no condemning stain. Such
Are repenting worries when all you held so dear,
Like broken glass, was methodically swept away.
Please listen to the wisdom of this Wren, who knows
How love erases doubts and fears. She stood by you
And yours years ago, and now in God’s love and
Light, she continues to call you friend.
A poem written for a nursing home patient who has window birdfeeders.