Wednesday Afternoon, Mid April Outside: A Still Life with Birds

He thinks she must be alien or angel
to love the wreck of his body, the ruin
of his mind—to pick him, the senior dog 
from the shelter, the old dog whose only new trick 
is napping, whose growing deafness augments 
selective listening and a growing paunch.
What would move her to bring him his iced tea 
where he sits in the garden swing and suns himself 
and forgets what she said would be for dinner?
He gnaws this puzzle off and on, this mystery
of her kindness, her patience, and resolves 
to pay her back in kind, to fetch something for her, 
a gift from Amazon. But then a hummingbird 
will dart by him and hover low in that bush 
with the long red flowers that he planted 
when he knew its name and then another wave
of orange blossom scent washes over him 
and three white-crowned sparrows drop like magic 
and start their two-step in the millet seed.

JOHN ROMAGNA

John Romagna began writing poetry after the death of his son, Tim. Writing keeps him connected with family, friends, and a community of writers. He lives in Clinton, New Jersey, with his wife, Karen, a landscape and seascape painter. He gains inspiration from the poetry of Mary Oliver and many others.