Kindness and affection 
returned to me 
today from someone 
long ago forgotten 
a sweet surprise 
no one ever 
treated me as 
well as you 
so many have 
over the years 
found me again 
like the swallows 
that return year
upon year without 
ever knowing why

I remember the wee
branch in some long
ago life when I 
was a little bird
sitting there teetering unsure 
if the wind was 
friend or foe waiting 
afraid of the ground 
and frightened of freedom 
and just like I
was then I am
today a little bird
on a wee branch 
about ready to go 

People only 
care for 
however long 
they must 
and when 
the must
is done 
off they
go to 
the next 
flower or
bush or
friend or 
lover or 
whatever else 
will give 
them nectar 

Seven seems right 
six not enough 
eight too much 
no not years
itty bitty hours 
that go bye 
whether it’s sleep 
or romance or 
intimacy seven seems 
just about right 
enough to do 
enough to make 
enough to know 
if one seven
will lead to 
fourteen to twenty-one 

This is 
interesting this
the peeling 
or whittling
hacking over 
chopping done
now this 
how does 
one know 
that what 
one dismisses 
is less
than what 
one finds
how does 
one know 
that the 
peel or
the whittle 
is less
succulent 
or less 
useful than 
the fruit 
or stick 
or whatever
is left