where only two stood

a few days ago.

Another gray day in Brooklyn unfolds

as May brings only questions

not our answers.

Yet all the blooming witnessed here

reassures my sturdy heart.

Our wild birds await their meal

and now –

twelve white French Irises

replace the two from only days ago –

and a tiny violet flower

I’ve yet to identify -

springs forward within the grouping

as an exotic voice speaking

to the large mystery of life.

It is so quiet this Sunday afternoon

not even a jet approaches LaGuardia -

even the F train is not running today

where weekdays the trains enter and exit

4^th Avenue and 9^th Street like clockwork.

Our shy cat has eaten her breakfast

and only Thursdays must I move my car

for street cleaning.

So, I sit still writing -

while my partner is running

I am searching inside myself

to find the soul of poetry.

I will fill the bird feeder late today – and wait

for feathers to fly or a breeze as a sign – that god is not dead

but alive in the bloom of spring.

J.E. Dorsey – for L.D. & S.F.

Poetry & Pictures . Doug Claybourne