Imagine the Possibilities

I didn’t intend to write and post a poem today for Poetry Friday. But then I read Margaret Simon’s post, and I was hooked on trying a nestling poem. In it, she reviews Irene Latham’s forthcoming book This Poem Is a Nest, and encourages readers to try out a nestling poem – to read a poem, choose words that call to you, then craft them into a new poem.

So, I opened up a file of poems I love and chose “Midnight Stray” by Rebecca Kai Dotlich. I chose fragile, tattered, whisper, stars, and love. Rebecca’s poem is about a cat, but the word “tattered” reminded me of a quilt.

The Quilt

The quilt,
edged with fading stars,
tattered from years of love,
whispers secrets,
whispers memories,
whispers a reminder
that perhaps,
with proper care,
the world is not so fragile.

Thanks, Margaret, Rebecca, and Irene!

A few weeks ago I found a small blue and brown bird egg on the golf course. Out in the open with no nest nearby, I decided it was lost. Abandoned. For some reason, it didn’t feel right to just leave this marvel there for someone to trample, so I pocketed it. I examine it every day, wondering. Could it have been a red winged blackbird, fearless and free? Would it have struggled for life, but somehow survived? What message does it hold? For me, it’s about potential.

A Small Miracle

A small miracle rests on my desk,
pale blue with splotches of brown.
Lost, then found
on the fairway of hole number five.
All things have a purpose –
if not life, then perhaps truth.
A small miracle rests on my desk,
a reminder of the potential within.

I was a little reluctant to post this since taking something from nature may not always be the best idea. This morning I noticed that the egg is starting to deteriorate, so this afternoon I will bury it in the backyard and return it to nature. Perhaps it will have another purpose in enriching the soil.

Today’s Poetry Friday Roundup can be found here.

A family of wrens is nesting inside our garage on top of some exposed insulation. We are learning to share space, but sometimes there are little surprises – like last week when the surprise of an open door became an adventure.

The Wren

An open door,
an invitation.
But this is not home,
This is not where she belongs.
My cupped hands
scoop her warm body,
feel the flutter,
like holding a miracle.
Together we make our way
back to the open door.
Hands unfold,
a moment’s pause that says so much,
then home.

Mary Lee has today’s roundup here. Visit to learn about the poet Marilyn Chin and read some great poetry.