Touch
A chickadee lands in your hand,
its body a buoy
it grips your finger –
you don’t hold it. It holds you.
It is a kiss, both hard & soft,
both lip & bone.
On your way about your life,
at the mailbox, or a stop light,
your body remembers
those feathers. That touch. & others.
I like! xo >
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Lovely! One landed on Eliana’s hand last Passover. Such joy in such a little feathered body…
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A Purple Gallinule! Nice work, Joy. Not your everyday kind of bird!!
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What a a lovely thoughtful poem about lingering tender feelings
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Thank you Carole
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