There is no statute of limitations on vision.
My old eyes register a darting messenger of
God’s blatant, creative joy. Watch the winged
creation hover in a web of air.
Spy a sleuthing intruder
snap-tapping its way
across the wood, tunneling
away and down the outside stairs.
No expiration (yet) for hearing,
cataloguing birdvoice and the
chipclacking of breakfast
at the feeder, the squeaking
insistence at the fountain.
Teach me to number my days, Lord,
to register the ways your wind
ruffles the tablecloth in the morning’s
gentle breeze, how cool, shortened
shadows signal this sea change
of a season rippling towards
May I live this calendar daily,
not ticking days toward the end
but aware and alive and about your
business, not counting lost hours, but
living into your addition, subtraction
multiplication, division, the only
math that matters.
c. Jody Lee Collins 2017
The chickadees are arguing
using their mad voices
to fight over the millet
Here’s a sweet ‘chirp’, there’s
an insistent, “cuh, cuh, cuh”
and another voice–“chick-a-dee, dee, dee.”
It’s a Bird Boardroom Brawl,
voices of different timbres and tempo
arguing about what’s on the menu.
They sound as if they’re starving,
staking out their claim to dinner
like it’s their last meal.
Then zoom! they’re off
to another branch,
a new hiding place
as evening winds down,
and I wonder
did their mother send them
all to bed without supper
because they wouldn’t stop fighting?
Ahhhh, they may never
get that millet meal until morning
Photo: (very small) chickadee on the horizontal piece of wood