Poetry, Unassigned

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Saturday, May 8, 2021

GIFT

GIFT

by Robin Shwedo

©: Robin Shwedo, 1985



There's a breeze outside.

I know,

because my wind chimes

are dancing.

They were a

Christmas present

from a friend who

finds me hard to shop for.

He's right, of course.

I'm, at times,

a fragmented,

puzzling person,

who likes a

little

of a lot of things,

but not quite enough

to spend a lot

on one particular thing.

But there are the chimes.

They dance and twirl,

singing musically

their tinkling,

swirling song.

First,

we hung them out back.

But no one heard their

delicate music there.

In front was nice,

until,

on a very windy day,

they nearly

beaned the mailman.

So now,

they sing outside the

kitchen window,

where I spend my time

and hear them

enough to really

enjoy their sound.



This is part of Love, Feelings, and the Seasons of Life, looking for a permanent home.

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