Migrant

Rest your weary mind
My love
Rest your stricken heart

Permit time
Permit soonness
Permit fondness promised

When seasons change, as they will
When notes become no more
Permit the absence, too

Olive

Birds in the rain

I overheard this morning

One, an albino-breasted Robin lady

The other, the always-humble female Cardinal

A Noticer, that Robin was, and piped right up to ask

“Are you sick, Miss Olive?”

“Heartsick,” Olive sang sadly

Belying her humility, but with head still hung low

“I’ll always believe I was the better bird.”