I Wrote This

and yes it's a rough draft, but I'm happy to be writing again. So read it, will ya?

Bird Watching In Central New York

One
Is when I get out my binoculars
To zoom in on a cardinal
Eating in a snowless patch
In my backyard, small dart,
Red and determined to graze.
He’s gone in an instant.
It’s March; when the hell
Will the birds come back?

Two
Is when I put on my facebook page
Patricia Murphy + binoculars = your thoughts?
My friends respond: birdwatcher, sniper,
Paranoid. I don’t get the last one.

Three
It’s the butt crack of dawn, and
I am looking for deer, moving
Through my yard and back to the woods,
Silent and graceful like small ships,
But I see none.
I imagine seeing someone at the edge
Of my property looking at me, or worse,
Looking at me through binoculars.

Four
The yard is less snow, more grass now.
I am reinventing myself with spring
Into a birdwatcher, deer watcher, crocheter
Of long and apparently endless chains
Because I cannot turn and stitch.
I am calming myself with tasks that
Require patience.

Five
I have thrown my chain in the bedside table
And twice across the room. I’ve cut two
Lengths for the cat to play with. The scarf
I predicted would be soothing and a gift
For my love should be done by July, if ever.

Six
There is danger in promising gifts
That signify creation, that require more than love.