Poetry in the Neighborhood
A dove's call
in the sky so vast
from a topmost thin swaying branch
holding fast
PJC 2024
Three birds on a wire
one in a tree
when all flew away
I alone
own their memory
PJC 2024
The Tree
I am the tree,
the eagle comes to me
I am the tree,
the hawk comes to me
I am the tree,
the owl comes to me
I am the tree,
the wolves come to me
I am the shade
you come too
come sit by me*
T S 2024
* Author’s note: In 2021, I moved into a four-building apartment complex located in a small town in mid-central Washington State. Needing adjustments to be made to the venetian blinds, I had met TS, the supervisor of the complex who I later learned managed over 2,000 units. On the scheduled day, I stood nearby, interested, as we chatted amiably. Our friendship grew slowly as I learned what interested him—eagles.
I noted his awareness of nature. In conversation by a tree towering above us one day, he had looked up and said, “I am the tree... and then continued with the next eight lines of the poem. When he ended and paused, I spoke, “That is a poem, and I want to publish it.”
TS wrote lines one to nine.
I wrote lines ten and eleven...
because... I come to that tree.
too... to sit.
My realization is, “Poets are everywhere, and discovered when they open their hearts and share their inner voices.”