Imagine the Possibilities

Often, as I sit with my morning coffee, I am entertained by a lively scene across the street. The little girl (not so little anymore) waits for the school bus, almost always accompanied by her mother. Over the years the scene has changed some. For a long time there were two girls, but one has left for college. A few years ago they were joined by a furry friend, and more recently, by another furry friend. But one thing remains the same – whether the bus is coming or going, there is always someone there to say goodbye or hello. My poem for today focuses on the two furry friends.

Goodbye/Hello

They prance and hop
to the top of the drive,
leashes tangled
in a jangle of excitement.

A yip-yap tiny fuss
when here it comes!
The bus
interrupts their play,
takes her away
until once again—

they prance and hop
to the top of the drive,
welcoming her home.

–2022 Rose Cappelli

Irene has the poetry roundup today at Live Your Poem, so head on over there for lots of poetry goodness.

I’ve been fortunate for the past several years (possibly a decade), to have bluebirds nest in my backyard. I love spotting that flash of blue in late winter as they return to familiar spaces. Several years ago I planted a few winterberry bushes hoping the bluebirds would feel welcome to stay through the winter. The bushes started out as mere twigs, but they survived and eventually matured. For many years there were no berries, then for several years a few berries, then a few more. I’m not sure what happened, but this year the bushes are full of beautiful, plump, bright red berries. But last spring, after an initial brood fledged, the bluebirds seemed to diappear. So now I had berries, but no bluebirds. Until…

last week, when I spotted one perched on the feeder. I thought it strange, since bluebirds usually don’t eat seed, but there wasn’t just one, there were several. I saw them again yesterday, but the strange thing is, they aren’t eating the berries…yet.

The Winterberry Waits

The winterberry waits
to welcome a visitor.
Laden with fruit, it splatters red
in that small space by the fence.
This morning a bluebird,
his russet chest puffed and fluffed,
perches on the feeder.
One by one he snatches
a bit of fruit,
a tiny nut—
treats on this cold, cold day.

Does he not know
the winterberry is so close,
waiting to welcome a visitor?

Tabith has the round up today here. Head on over for more poetry and some puzzle fun, too.