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One morning this week,
there appeared
a lone Yellow-Headed Blackbird
frantically pecking at the corn, sunflower seeds, milo
scattered below the bird feeders.
The morning sun
shining golden
on his golden neck
was breath-taking.
All that glowed golden
was gone
next day.

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Mid-afternoon yesterday—
a sunny, breezy March day—
I’m chilly in the house
and realize I hadn’t reset
the thermostat. It was 63
instead of 66.
The south porch is sunny
and out of the wind,
so I settle in a chair there
to read while I’m warming up,
and when I look up
to take in the day,
I am overwhelmed
by the beauty of the sky.
The air is clear,
the sky is Dutch blue
and the clouds floating by
are gorgeous in that field of blue,
glowing in the sunshine.
Later, at animal feeding time,
just as the Earth has rolled up
so that sun disappeared below the horizon,
I am standing in the alpaca pasture
amazed at that blue sky once again;
amazed too that there is not a single wisp
of cloud.

Light,
sky,
change;
visitors
come and go,
all day long—
silently,
almost without notice.