Mother Always Chose Joy
by Judy Lorenzen

As autumn’s beauty diminished
with stacks of brown sheaves
golden leaf by leaf,
the sun left earlier each day–
Mother began her watch
for the Harris’s Sparrows’ flight
immigrating in the dark of night
to winter in her spruces.
Little brown birds, no words
but full of song
and wisdom to build their nests
on the side of the spruce
out of prevailing winds.
Three single same-note refrains
they’d sing in the coldest winter terrain.



 

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