Beyond our reach
The tiny feeder’s empty so no birds fly back and forth
I miss them as the pine boughs dip and sway
the wind from the east rising again, three days blowing
although the sky is blue with dreams of summer
and blousy tulips fill the pots.
Slow days lengthening, crochet blanket and its baby growing
the comfort of routine,
a song of loveliness with minor chords beneath
the grip of worry, grief, the price we pay
for those we cherish, suffering
beyond our reach.
April 14th 2026 Hounoux
I can see you Sally, and the tulips outside. I don't need to imagine the wind it's been here but gone. Another cherished baby wrapped in colourful rows made with love protected from the worries we all share of those beyond our reach. Whose leaders have a duty to give up the fights and remember babies too have human rights.
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