In tepid spring air I stand
under one of my favorite trees,
looking up at chickadees,
five or so, flying from
budding limb to budding limb,
as if playing on a jungle gym.
I can see them clearly now,
cocking their heads, preening
feathers, then flitting almost
like butterflies, the camouflaged
color of late winter branches,
or of my dignified grandfather's
blended hair: dark brown,
black, silver gray and white.
In summer I'll strain, peering to see
the chickadees in this leafy tree.
They, however, looking down,
will always see me on the ground.
Welcome to Four Lines! I have a goal I would like to write at least four lines of poetry or a haiku every day for the rest of my life. I'm excited about this challenge! Also, along with my daily poem, I will be reading at least four lines of another author's poetry. I'll try to include that here also. So I'm thinking - how difficult can it be to read and then write one poem a day? We will see! - Claudia
All poems on this blog, unless noted, are written by Claudia Callaghan.
© 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016 Claudia Callaghan
Used only with permission. Please feel free to join Four Lines and request permission.