Thursday, December 29, 2011

Waiting For An Open Door...

This photo was taken today by Tess Kincaid and posted on her Facebook page.  I couldn't help but write a quick poem, and with her permission I'm posting it here.  Poor little bird flew into her French doors, she said.  I've had that happen here, but my doors weren't French, and the sparrow who gonged himself managed to "flutter" it off and fly away.  Many thanks, Tess!


Photo ©2011 Tess Kincaid


portal 


before my 
eyes glaze, 
warmth cools, 
colors pale; 

before we 
finish dinner
swallow wine, 
spin fables; 

dust the crumbs 
from my chin, 
tidy my tie, 
hold the mirror 
of dignity 

close to 
my face 
for 
one 
last 
glance. 


Poem © 2011 R. Burnett Baker

2 comments:

  1. ah,dignity
    I hope I hit the window with some, too
    well done there Rick, you lovable curmudgeon

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  2. I've had this happen too; and, yet, luckily, the birds got to shake themselves off after the shock and fly off. It's such a sad feeling one has when this happens to a little bird in our homestead. We can't help but feel responsible for the boundaries set up that it doesn't understand, dives into and dies confounded by.
    Yet, knowing Tess, I'm sure that this one got its proper respect and burial.
    Once when I was sitting in front on a big double decker bus, a pigeon slammed right into the driver's wind-shield and bounced off onto the highway.
    I wanted to yell: 'Stop, stop!'
    The bus chauffeur kept driving with me silently lost in unspoken thought of futility, wondering if the driver even blinked or thought past his current day's agenda. Sigh

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