Birthday Poem 2017

A day without birds
salvaged in the last hours
by the alpenglow of
birthday candles on
the kids’ faces and
the Eroica playing its tricks –
after all these years it still
catches me off guard
with every listen  Then
I remember
this morning a chickadee
at the feeder reminding me
as always, of summer camp
back in northern Michigan
where the birds first began
to tell me their stories
and put a small flame
at the tip of my pen
like a birthday candle
like a flare of notes in E flat
major

About marcbeaudin

Poems, plays, books, roads, trails.
This entry was posted in poetry, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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