Eight Matrons Dine Al Fresco

How they come flocking to the outdoor restaurant,

Clad in multicolored finery,

But always tasteful: shades of blue, gray, white, even a light caramel brown.

No vulgar emerald green, shocking pink, or sunshine yellow,

And, like debutantes, each boasts a different pattern in her dress.

No problem of duplication here.

Yet, as if to compensate for their sartorial restraint, each wears an iridescent choker in subdued shades of blue and green.
Like plump Victorian matrons, they strut self-consciously,
as if to confirm their place in the world.

Their eyes are beady, alert for gossip, perhaps, as they nod their heads complacently.

But my fancy has gotten the best of me.

They are simply pigeons who have discovered spilled seed below my bird feeder.

Yet I delight to view them, each the same species; each unique.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Doggy Duet

Image
This seems incomplete, but I'm not really sure.                                                                                                                                   Chloe, as a younger dog and today. Our plott hound Chloe has taken  upon herself the task of protecting our home from invaders. Children on bicycles, people strolling by our house, even  sometimes, I think, ants tunneling in the ground all earn a vigorous round of barking. And then there’s our mail carrier. She deserves three rounds of barking. One for when she parks her truck beside our house, one for when she delivers the mail on the other side of the street, and one for when she  actually reaches our house (this  last accompanied by frantic scratching at the door).  But lately the hound side of Chloe’s pedigree is beginning to show itself.  Instead of barking, she has taken to uttering plaintive wails, much like a coyote, with her head thrown back and her eyes shut.
Read more

The Spiritual Taxonomy of a Sparrow

The most amazing things cross your eyes if you are looking for them. The other day, I looked out  my kitchen window and saw three sparrows on our deck eating seed that had spilled from our bird feeder.  Now I am not especially knowledgeable about bird species, but I knew these were sparrows. However, they were a kind of sparrow that I had never seen before, and I immediately dubbed them “chipmunk sparrows” since their markings resembled those of  a chipmunk. They had dark brown stripes on their heads, chests, and wings, alternating with rust colored stripes. They were plump little fellows and seemed to stride around the deck. I asked my husband what they were and he said they were a  form of native sparrow—not English—and he went to find our bird identification book for some  more information. But then I realized that I was not really interested in the taxonomy of the birds. Instead, what appealed to me was the fullness of a God, who had so many patterns to choose from that he could du
Read more

The Cactus that Would Not Die

Image
The old cactus.  It's not blooming now, but it probably will later this year.  In any event, it remains in good health. My husband and I have a Christmas cactus that we inherited from my aunt. It’s accompanied us to Kansas and Ohio, and now resides in our study in Pennsylvania. It must be at least sixty years old, and is showing its age. Infested with white spores, the leaves flop and dangle over their pot, as if begging to be put out of their misery. But my husband has an emotional attachment to it and refuses to let it go. “ But sometimes you have to be ruthless, if you’re a gardener,” I argue. My words fall on deaf ears, and the stricken look on his face makes me back down. When he goes on a trip, I purchase a new cactus hoping that he will let me make an exchange. I congratulate myself on my cleverness. Alas, we now have two Christmas cacti as he refuses to part with the heirloom plant. The new cactus.  It IS blooming now, and rather impressively at that. He puts the plant unde
Read more