Fireworks Popping

The Christmas decorations are all hidden away. This is my 80th New Year's Eve. I would do it all again if I could, and would try to be a better trooper next time around.

 

***

Here's a little poem I found on a scrap of paper under a pile of books. I wrote it about a year ago. It's about a photo I saw of Leeds poet Grady Sue S., who was holding a little bird in the palm of her hand:

 

What storm or flood untimely orphaned you

and flung you tumbling forth on unfledged wings,

she does not ask, but only offers up

her hand, where you can lie and rest awhile.

 

by JRC 2013