Immigrants
The dogwood tree's bare and I've no pokeberries
nor holly to attract blue feathered friends -
so I'll wait upon spring to lure them back;
in the mean time my bird feeder will proffer
flashes of red and other swiftly fluttering (hungry) songbirds
who've no time for harmonizing, for leisure,
as I, tucked within winter's abode
imagine what it was like for my ancestors
newly arrived from Europe, mid November -
ponder first hesitant steps upon snowy foreign soil,
everything owned carried in two hands
No time to linger, sip tea, enjoy a morning view
but time for backs to bend, a home to build... a friendly hand?
Margaret Bednar, December 11, 2016
proffer: to put before for acceptance
OK... this was my first response to "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Poetry & Flash Fiction with Magaly: Snow Birthed Tales". I realize I may not have followed the rules - a story was to be fiction - but was the poetry to be as well? Magaly - let me know as I will go back to the drawing board as I usually do like poetry that is fiction and a story... this is just what came about but I will try again. (I'll be back)
4 comments:
I love the way your poem starts - I've never seen dogwood trees or pokeberries but I can imagine them!But I do know robins and I love the way you evooke them without mentioning their name:
'in the mean time my bird feeder will proffer
flashes of red and other swiftly fluttering (hungry) songbirds'!
I like the way you change the viewpoint from present to past, linked to the season of winter and, of course, I always love the birds.
I absolutely love this - some really gorgeous images in your poem, Margaret❤️ Sigh.. "flashes of red" and "fluttering songbirds".. beautiful!❤️
I like the hope in the speaker's tone and words. She doesn't despair at the sight of cold and wintry scarcity. Instead, she thinks of spring and of the possibility of a helping hand.
Lovely.
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