The Irises...

The Irises are blooming

two purple

two white –

and - it rained last night

a sad gray light

falls this morning in spring tears.

An old wooden ladder stands against our slatted fence

on each rung sits a memory -

metal chairs I know from smiling photographs when we first met sit wet with raindrops.

The fire escape shrugs its broad shoulders

against this quiet setting watching our

love affair with life.

A recently planted dogwood stands

proudly next to the worn out ladder –

we can reach out to her white buds

a remembrance of our dear friend – Joie de Voive.

Further away,

a rose bush full of bright pink blossoms is alive -

almost laughing with the joy of her beauty,

much like the artist she represents in memory –

a dear friend, Vita. Bless her soul.

This old backyard in Brooklyn –

is full of history

the Japanese maple planted ten years ago

for Laura’s grandmother

thrives at the center of our sacred garden.

The bird feeder is empty now -

when seeded, the first sparrow lands.

Then, a green necked pigeon.

All this life is seen

just beyond our office windows –

into our twenty by sixty foot piece of land.

Our long stone walkway was laid by hand

And at the end of the path – is grandma’s maple.

A dozen pigeon’s now enjoy

the limbs of the Lilac tree they feed beneath.

Six sparrows – twist the feeder

dropping seed below.

It all happens in some kind of blessed silence

excepting the flapping of wings

and the occasional screeching of birds

large and small.

Passenger jets fly high above

on arrival to LaGuardia

a sudden flurry occurs

as a squirrel disturbs the peace – then disappears.

Then the return

as life’s delicate cycle continues

all before the arrival of the full moon.

J.E. Dorsey – for LDN

Copyright © 2011. Doug Claybourne. All Rights Reserved.