Coming back home, after a long stint south,
I passed the blue sign on the turnpike that reads
“Massachusetts Welcomes You.”
Under the “Welcomes,” some Mayflower blooms,
And a chickadee perches there, under the "You.”
I’d seen this bird busying our woods as a boy,
Seen its black helmet with small streaks of white,
Flitting from thickets to rest on a branch,
Or...
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