Shuttered
by Franny Osman

This time, Vera, please don’t forget
to open the blinds before you go.

I missed the feeder yesterday,
could only listen, and not so well.

I heard a scuffle, a squeak, a thud,
could only picture the flutter and hop,

could only imagine the blushes of red.
I stared and stared at the sliver of light

at the bottom of the blinds
at the height of the day.

The news man said we can expect
a dusting of fresh snow today.

I do not want to miss the view
the whitening hillside, sprinkled roof.

I do not want to hear the wind
and have to wait ’til Beulah comes

to finally open the shade for me
to see what remains, what’s blown, what’s gone.



 

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