Fleeting
For most all the yearsI’ve lived here
this porch has been a refuge
to escape the scroll,
to watch the backyard stations
for food and water,
birds most frequent,
squirrels uncountable
and undistinguishable,
baffles baffling them
as they shimmy up the poles,
the occasional bandit
with tiny hands sneaking
seeds out to stuff its face.
And yet, the bluebird
rarely viewed
until this year.
Most days now
one lands on nearby fence
or post, then turns
and flies away.
Those few seconds
in my sight,
then gone,
but hope stays…
at least until
I scroll again.
Poetry by Melinda K Zarate
Written on 2026-06-19 at 18:51
Tags Nature Hope
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