put raspberries and carob chips on it along with two candles,
one for last year and one for the next, gathered friends
to talk about old times, lit the candles and sang to myself.
While I was singing, I wondered if it was odd
to orchestrate my own party. A few days before,
after the test had come back negative, I opened the windows
and heard the wren for the first time, its crazy chatter,
how its sound followed me around the house.
I told myself I could be like the bird,
the garden’s flutterer, standing on tree branches,
fence posts, high water spigots, singing its heart out.
Yes, I would be that speckled bird, the resolute flier,
Ronnie Hess, from A Woman in Vegetable (Kattywompus Press, 2015). Presented here by poet submission.
Art credit: "Marsh Wren," photograph by Arman Werth.