Spring Mornings Poem by Barbara Buxton

The first light of a Spring day is my favorite time.
Just enough light to guide the coffee to my lips.

A redwood deck, glider and lounge hold
Molly and me. We wait to be entertained by
the morning delights.
The home made birdfeeder
(looking more like the TIN MAN of OZ)
feeds birds at the top, squirrels and chipmunks at the bottom
and an occasional deer craves a breakfast of seeds.

My bird houses are filled with occupants,
tweeting, trilling...darting throughout subdued light.
So much for them to do.....so busy they are.
Starting early to get it all done.
In and out from house to tree to ground to house to tree....
Whatever it takes to be a bird, is what they do.

I think of things I most forgot;
an angry eyed child throwing flaming words
long ago.
It still stings the heart, so I float the memory
away on soft dewy air.
I remember faces missed that invite tears,
so I send them floating on morning dew as well.
This time is for Molly and me.

The cool cloud of morning enfolds me
like a satin cloak.
I smile the smile of one grown old.
(content most of the time) .
who knows that all will come to rest
hand in hand in a far off place that brings us
all to peacefulness.
Forgiveness and forgiveness; Blessed.

My dog, Molly, gives me a quizzical look.
I assure her with a smile
and we watch for a while
at the tree with the peeping sun.