Chickadee

lands on a branch

not far from me

I turn, I say, I sing 

chickadee-dee-dee

with each repeat 

chickadee flits closer

until she sits, rocking

a foot from my face

chickadee-dee-dee

black eye, black cap

what do you think I am

chickadee-dee-dee

Sketched on a Page

I labor up the hill, sail down

flanked by bees’ yellow shoulders, bent

black heads plunged in dandelion

yellow, brighter than daffodil yellow

bright as yellow crayon steered by fingers

drawing the sun, first the yellow circle

next the flaring rays above a red

house, blue roof, blades of grass

& now the family waves, hello

hello, I wave to them, & here we stay

frozen in motion, now dancing toward

now dancing away, today & tomorrow

we figures sketched on a page — 

hill, bees, child, sun, home