Tired chirp she brings to end of day.
and every note echos a reply:
"Silly chickadee, sing to them all;
But we know whom you hope to call.
But no matter how sweet your song may coo,
Only the mockingbird sings to you."
Poor chickadee knows she sings alone,
A flutter of wings, a sigh, forlorn.
Now owl calls out in a long, benign way,
"Chickadee, don't forget to play.
You're young yet, child.
Sing aloud another day."
Chickadee smiles... and flits away.
No pedestal - no platform - no milky steed,
Nothing like it was "supposed to be".
The chills and flutters pass and fade -
Why, oh mind, did you think they'd stay?
No path's easy and none short -
Time it takes to know for certain,
And lots of time to court.
Too long? Oh, no. Love's enough to wait.
And love's enough to walk me through
This limbo, labyrinthic state...
Love's enough to push me, too,
To dream of love that's mean to be...
And release it into silly poetry.
Meredith Bean McMath
March 1979 - 3 months before Chuck and I married. Posted June of 2021, 42 years of happy marriage since
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