My whole post just disappeared.  My new computer has hiccups.  Or maybe it’s chrome.  So I’ll start over.  Obviously the energy didn’t like the first rendition and this will be better.  Busy day and it got away from me writing wise.  Everything I planned went out the window as Hubby and I decided to go check on our old house, for sale, an hour down the road, then stop and get more flowers for the front yard because, well, like books there is no such thing as too many flowers.  Especially if you have lived in the woods for 24 years where bright flowers won’t grow.  They like sun not shade.  Sun I have more than enough of now.  So, flowers.

I started a poem early this morning because I got up, went out to feed the ferals and, it still being cool and heading toward 80 (and above mentioned front yard turning into an oven around 10:30 a.m.) I decided to move some planters around and some yard art from the back to the front.  That particular piece of yard art is the impetus for my poem and I will post a picture later because now it is dark since my book club at Barnes and Noble wound up being fun (I hated the book and gave it to a person who came but didn’t read it) and went over by 2 hours.  I will go again.  And buy the book and hope I don’t hate it.  I’m so picky.  No one else hated it.

Back to the poem.  This is a draft.  I said I’d post daily.  I didn’t say it would be polished.

Bird

In my front yard, a bird of sorts
metal art of pitchfork, hook with no pulley,
rebar, a pick axe piece, and parts I cannot
name – the final assemblage a thing at which
I smile each time I see it, impervious to wind
and rain, storm and snow.  And isn’t this how
we are all made – disparate scraps from parents
and peers, culture and school, the daily news –
we are garbage heaps of information as is this bird
sitting there, showing me how to be in this world.