Still Life

 

Love comes in many forms.

My little poem this month celebrates a couple of them.

I celebrate the manifest love a girl feels for a tiny bird upon her hand.

In this moment, she is captivated.  It is as if, for a timeless instance, during which they each illuminate the other. nothing else exists,

But another form of love’s in play - a father's love for his daughter. She's grown up now, but here she still is – an innocent girl, my daughter, entranced by a bird.

I too am captivated.

Perhaps that's what love's all about?

 

Still Life

 

A moment it was

and a moment still is

when colours come live

soft life radiates

and lightness descends

to surprise and delight

one who is loving

observant and awestruck

whose open hands gentle

a wonder of nature

sensing perfection

 

warm in the sunshine

a golden girl glows

blessed by a fledgling

just for a moment

a moment of stillness

before each flies away