The Birdwatcher

Once, I was a purple bird A red bird, a blue bird A yellow bird, a green bird Through all those birds I realized the words Were simply a display of My Grandma’s affections She watched me each morning As I sat on her rock steps Awaiting the big, yellow bus Dressed impeccably In some sweet little dress My mom had chosen for me With her eye for colors So vivid and vibrant They shouted look at me These dyes are stunning To the heart who listens With a keen interest in The birds who sing sweetly Grandma, with her sensitivity Of the birds and nature Chose to call me her little bird Using the color of my dress Sometimes red or blue Possibly yellow, white or tangerine Any color was a possibility As my mother didn’t hesitate to Dress me in the most rich Arrays of fabulous hues It is one of my most pleasant Memories of those days When I was so young Clothed in my best little outfit Be it a vibrant azure Or something nearing sapphire I was undoubtedly draped In the finest from Sears and Roebuck Where my Mama had a charge Account and could purchase For me – those breathtaking Birdlike dresses which would Reveal my mama’s love of the Most appealing and vibrant shades Of blue, lavender and gold All the tones and tints so bold They remind me, still today That my grandma wasn’t so old She was simply a birdwatcher At least that is what I was told