The Songbird by Myrtle Thomas

August Crepe Myrtle © Myrtle Thomas 

The Songbird

the rain falls and fades

into the lemonade shades

of the sunlight

mornings catch the songs

of a summer bird

here in the calm of my nest

my eyes trace the window

while the restless stir in my breast

yields a red bird.

when trouble finds my heart

and there is hunger and thirst

for the simplest ebbs and tides

of peace, my mind wanders away

to my childhood

back to the safety of my mother's arms

to the unlocked doors and the window screens

to the fly swatter in my father's hand.

here in the dust of my youth a flower-

a book left by my bedside

a young girl's diary searches her heart

hunting the red bird and the sound of its wings

longing for her favorite valentine

the one with white scalloped edges

and a golden arrow through

a bleeding heart.

the sweet red wine sits in my mouth

and warmth finds my memories

those that are exposed and then disappear

the haunting trials I face today—

in disabilities and the roar of the world

things that I would never dreamed of in my life

things that I have no control over

in my own reasoning.

when I feed the holy - the bird seed in my hand

the rain falls on my flowers and they bloom wonderfully

in the calm blooms of my heart I find my precious mother

singing her songs of faith to the clouds and the sun

then I notice they are all right here beside me

my family, all long gone into the abyss of vapor-

sun and moonlight.

© Myrtle Thomas

Myrtle Thomas has been published in several poetry journals and has self-published her own poetry books. She has been writing for many years on topics of love, loss and nature, and connecting with her readers in shared emotions. She lives in the USA and is a southern lady born and raised and the proof is in her accent.