walking about my
neighborhood listening
as Debussy fills
the day with nocturnes
scurrying squirrels
leap toward safety
from the old thinker
plodding on along
is there more bird song?
do feathered cousins
whistling and chirping
approve these preludes?
a bee knocks my hand
on way to freshly
planted flowerbed
gathering pollen
along the path home
at hilltop, none plays
outside orphanage
I have never seen
kids around on swings
or basketball courts
across the street
a quiet nursing
home for elderly
folks ― a different
kind of orphanage …
my sandals scraping
concrete, a pebble
lodged in the tread
step step ― scritch… standing
still… step step ― skliph
stopping a moment,
knocking out pebble
with my cane; young man
stopping to make sure
i am okay: “Just rocks…”
a quail flutters out
bob-white whistling
between us; the youth
eyes-wide like some Holy
Ghost revelation
chuckling we move on
each to opposite
fantasies of life:
him where more time waits
as patient order;
me where eternity’s
shadow slinks backward
into Chaos’ arms.
Maggie Malady
05Mar2023
CALL ME MAGGIE 