Chickadee

Sadness, lost forever at the beach,

toes digging into the hot sand,

tears shedding onto the keyboard

letter by letter,

no, not in alphabetical

order,

but in cycles

cycles of life,

spirals, a fern

uncoiling its beautiful greens

while leaving behind

the dead Chickadee

at my door's footsteps.

Why must there be

death in the name

of rebirth?

End of summer,

and birth of Fall?

How can I be in the

moment, with the sorrow,

letting go of the

Chickadee's full lived

life? Why did it

die at my footsteps?

These questions

remove me from

the senses in my body

and unto my

brain. They are

meaningless

unless I can

be in the

present.

By A Johnson

Photo by A Johnson, Lemoine Point Conservation area