Whitney

Caged, I am no different than the hundreds of animals around me. We are on display. Judged on first glances and brief interactions. Bumbling bodies crash consistently.

Like the clothes you wear,
a persona you put on
tailored to “fit in”.

Your exterior emotions
crafted as a sculpture --
something abstract
with just a hint of its creator.

When the curtain is thrown open 

Calm heat, the breeze, rolling out stresses. Beginning lap one around the house. Annie, running fast in doggy bliss. Lazily turning the corner, my daze broken as I watch in horror, my beloved dog ferociously barking at a bear family of three.

War.
Twenty years of death and gore.
Two countries,
bonded in the blood of battle.
America, the upstander,
supporter,
friend,
assisting Afghanistan,
our brother in need,
a relative in desperate circumstances,

Torn apart by an ice storm
all who enter be fare warned,
a stifling path cut in the corn,
together we'll find the way.

Your mental labyrinth I travel through,
running blind not sure what to do,
all I want is to find you,

I wote this poem in honor of my favorite libaraian ever, Deborah Lundbech, who has just retired.

****
Bluebird,
Bluebird,
At my window

The verse,
Sends warm
Fulfilling sensations
Into my heart.
Attached,