Cloaked in a fitting grey suit and bow tie,
She floats like paper kites across meadows.
From a hollow in a tree, her eyes pry~
Her loud hoot startles nearby sleeping crows.
The spectral owl, with her faint, surprised look,
Watches as the crows flee into the dark.
Then silence reigns, curbed only by a brook,
And chirps of birds in the dark forest park.
Within calm meadows nestled in the hills,
The great grey owl sights frogs, snakes, and mudfish.
She floats on broad wings, drawn by hunger’s thrills~
A feast just enough to grant her one wish.
As dusk gives way to the coming sunlight,
To a hidden branch, she flew for a nap~
To await the call of another night,
And avoid the birder’s photograph trap.
Elegy
“You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens.”
-Rumi
Soil so dust to dust another loved lost,
Harvested soul now risen separated from its host.
Much needed rest an eager witness missing,
Long lived Lue Birder Grandma Lue,
Creek Blackfoot of such decent.
Native American African blood from Cameroon.
Tears of misunderstanding understood not to understand.
Miss guise until she was under the influent,
Her self is not here inside tis casket vision.
Her self has risen, nor has she died she’s risen.
Place not flowers beside nor atop of her;
She no longer can shell the aroma,
That that’s in the coffin just bones, that’s not Grandma.
Heaven sent, heaven scents blessedness we miss,
I look up I submit I smack smooch Kiss”….
Blow up onto heaven a Kiss,
Daddy Father God her presence I sore, truly miss.
Heaven blessed be at peace enjoy the fellowship and view
She’s not gone she’s just not here
Grandma Lue
8/24/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
A birder in search of a bird
Just slipped on a buffalo turd
Sharp as a tack
Flat on his back
He learned not to follow the herd!
A bird enthusiast’s a birder;
Guess that means that I’m a worder!
Dropping over human heads birds fly
Drops from beautiful beaks grow trees
Birds drops manure for trees ever free
Hang on trees singing to see a birder be
Architect of environment birds serve we
Dropping thoughts over human heads birds fly!
So it is my theory
there is nothing more cheery;
that first vision bleary,
that first feathered dearie...
Ooh, look! One so leery...
It's a precious little Veery!
Mind the birder standing teary;
She's just shedding winter dreary.
18.03.20
Composed for Michael Vacek's
Spring Fling Zing Thing King (or Queen)
Rip ticy tac schmitty fiddy fiddy smack
Fliddy skity zat vroom lackity crack
getty getty boom wheter zoom wack
Birder loom werter veroom lurdder
Doom whippty plaque
The sound of a bull whipped emotion
With the bull whip
Smacking my back
Seven birders in a huff
Trying to tell if it's brown or buff
The bird's feathers are all afluff
Seven birders in a hufff
Six birders in a van
Scouring, searching all the land
For a bird so small and tan
Five birders biding time
Hoping, waiting for that find
To make the day so grand and fine
Four birders in a car
Traveling far from where they are
To see the birds that are afar
Three birders in a book
Trying to find the bird that took
Them by surprise with a short look
Two birders in a field
Scouring o're the lake for teal
While lbj's do chirp and squeal
One birder all alone
The birds were here but now they've flown
To cover, themselves no longer shown
One birder all alone
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