Death & Dying, Life & Living, Love

remembering a bird in the hand


This pic popped up in my Facebook feed this afternoon under “memories.” Sharon Call, one of Mom’s beloved one-on-one companions snapped it with her phone four years ago today. It made me feel a little sad and melancholy and called forth this poem. I love experimenting with the shape of poetry as well as with the words (as you may have noticed!).


bird in the hand

a poem by punkie  ©2016

the sun frosts our backs
like the chill dawn air
kissed fallen leaves
as we slept
snug as bugs in rugs
made of goose down, fluff and feathers.

you stand
in a deep pink
felted wool coat i bought
in paris on a whim because it matched my lipstick
now i shine in fuschia and a long string of pink plastic pearls.

my left hand lies soft
on your left shoulder, my right
supports your elbow, steadies an elder arm.

the sudden flutter of wings when
a chickadee alights
on two gifted fingertips
to eat black oil sunflower seeds
from your outstretched hand

“shhhhh,” I say, “don’t scare her.”
“I won’t,” you whisper in reply.

time waits patiently
for her to finish

see silvered white hair
and a twinkle twinkle little star
swinging from my one visible ear
while a blue moon hangs from the other
hidden in the space between us?

how intent you look in this
golden frozen moment.

sudden remembered joy
causes salty sweet
tears to roll down
grieving cheeks
and me to wish
you were here
feeding little
birds once

©2016 Susan Macaulay. I invite you to share my poetry widely, but please do not reblog or copy and paste my poems into other social media without my permission. Thank you.

Here’s the original uncropped and “untreated” image (Thanks again to Sharon Call):



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