heat wave

heat wave

Bird Egg Feather Nest, Maryjo Koch

Tiny chirps let us know that the eggs in the nest above our light fixture have hatched,
and so this year, having failed yet again to prevent her nesting there,
we re-arrange our tiny porch to better accommodate feeding & flight,
which is to say: poop;
while eagerly awaiting the sight of little heads popping up from her moss wrapped nest.

She comes every year.
Last June Casey saw each one of her chicks take flight.
She’s been my steady companion this cold spring–flying out each time I arrive home or depart,
and then as the weather warmed, flying back and forth to the nest as I watched from the kitchen, fixing meals for my family, while she fed hers.

Last week I introduced her to a friend.
We’re all Mamas after all.

But then a day went by, and I realized I hadn’t seen her, and then another, and I was almost certain I hadn’t, so this morning, I asked Casey to check.

And all the little chicks are dead.

There won’t be poop all over our porch after all.

june 2017, marlboro, vt

First Morning

First Morning

Neringa pond, Kelly Salasin, 2015

a bird and a plane pass overhead
the Jay heading east
the jet streaming west
their flight, miles apart
reflected in the pond
at my feet

the water stilled by the absence of children
except for the silent fish, free to create
ever-expanding circles that remind me that I am here
to pray

with open palms,
pinkies touching,
i recite the once foreign but oddly familiar words that i have accidentally memorized from years of repetition~

Karagre vasate Lakshmi
Kara-madhye Saraswati
Kara-mule sthita Gauri
Prabhate kara-darshanam

funny that it is the English translation that always slips from memory, leaving behind only beginning and ending fragments~

On the tips of my fingers is…
…a vision of energy in my hands.

In between there are Goddesses.
Saraswati is the one devoted to eloquence and learning,
a fine companion to evoke on this first day of school,
as I begin, again, to find the writer, within.