BIRDIE SLEEPS.

[dadio]

Birdie sleeps, Clare said.
Bird’s dead, Granddad said,

Taking the still warm
Bird from the child’s small

Hands where it had been
Cupped like some precious

Jewel. Dead? Clare asked
Confused, watching her

Granddad’s huge hands take
The bird from her view.

Is that what all the
Small birdies do? Yeah

All go that way, Clare,
All go to the big

Maker in the sky.
Clare bit her tiny

Fingernail asking,
Why? Well kid, all things

Have to go sometimes:
Birds, cats, dogs, horses,

Me, you, Grandma, and
The old guy who sits

Outside the drugstore
Begging for dough; all

Got to go to the
Big maker in the

Big blue sky when their
Number’s up. Clare sat

Wondering where the
Birdie had gone. Had

Granddad put it in
His pocket or where?

She continued to
Wonder with her blue

Eyed stare. Is the small
Birdie in your big

Coat pocket or is
It someplace elsewhere?

She softly pleaded.
It’s tucked away in

My old coat pocket
Along with my pipe

Tobacco and my
White peppermint creams.

I will bury it
Later, Granddad said,

With my all broken
Promises and your

Grandma’s dreams. Clare looked
At her empty hands,

The warmth of the bird
Still there, it had left

Two small brown feathers
There for her to share.

[happytrails]

Aaahh. I know you. Nice writing and I like your profile picture. Nice to meet the face behind the words.

[dadio]

Thank you. What a face, eh? Glad you like the poem.

[happytrails]

Actually, it is a good face. Much better than the one I originally pictured. If you recall, I was the one who said I saw you as a grizzled old man with a hooked nose and a back hunched from sitting at a writing table in a barren room and writing by the light of either an oil lamp or a candle. I to have an imagination. Not as good as yours, but it is alive and well.

[dadio]

Lol, I liked your description. Imaginative.

[happytrails]

Yeah, but you just look like a nice man. Not some grizzled hunch back cackling evilly as he writes his gut wrenching little gems.

[dadio]

i cannot argue with that.

[happytrails]

No you can't, because I will always have a come back.

[dadio]

good for you.

[Sue Littleton]

This one touched a response chord. I have been reading your poetry posts and enjoying -- including Mr. Fudgee.

I like cats more than dogs 'cause dogs insist on Frenchkissing. Pfui.

Sue♥

[dadio]

Thank you,Sue.

[dadio]

I don't know if the painting could be classified a great art, but it did inspire the poem.