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The Hoping

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

Some Children Have Nightmares (tentative title)

Night Train


wandering the rolling hills ...(written for his model)

All The Changing....


Lonesome Love

two out of three people

A Start Again...(I Green-Dreamed Again Last Night)

The Little Bird Said

cat speech

Funny, Not Funny

All You Have To Do Is Breathe....


A Dog Should Have His Tail...

Enough to Clear The Clouds Away 4/13/2019

Checking Out


Hope Is Sometimes The Best Of All You've Got (definition poem)

Last Night

Someone Send Out A Search Party

Crows...writing exercise in honor of April /National Poetry month


Only The Choice To Be

When People Go

The Day You Left (Words From A Half-Remembered Dream)

Wake Wake Wake

It Is In The Rain

Dream Goblins Of The Night

Wake And Remember

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snow scene: bird girl on winter hill

the last waning light
from the top of the highest hill
black crow wings are filling in the sky
it is nearly the end of the day
but not yet

it has been a satisfying
observing these crows
as they feed
on the half frozen
half thawing Hoppa crab apples
plus all the bounty I have
brought to them

I am the bird girl on the hillside
I sit
watching the crows
I like to think
we have a kind of understanding
they watch me with their heads
cocked side ways
and their eyes narrowed
and focused

I bring them offerings of:
bits of home-popped corn
tasting of seasoned salt
and parmesan,
holiday cookie crumbs
and brittle,
the crusts of peanut butter sandwiches
and fresh frozen cranberries
the ones
Mother doesn't know I've pilfered
from our down stairs freezer

my navy blue snowsuit
crinkles like a tray of
Teflon in the bracing air
with each movement I make
or as the wind blows,
the snow moans and
my suit crinkles and moans as I move
in the bitter coldness of the late afternoon
I twirl in circles
and my snowman mitten clips
hold fast onto hand-knit red mittens
which fan out like small propellers

as it grows darker
I become a dark blue shadow

at dusk
the crows gather and leave as one
while the orange bulb of the sun sinks
it is almost as if a long thread has been pulled
the day has suddenly run out

still I remain
the bird girl on my snowy hillside
watching all the crows fly to their roost
one by one

I wonder
where is their home
where do and how DO they go
to sleep at night

what cornucopia would I like to offer them
when I see them again

LEGAL copyright November 21 2014 11:07 AM PST
 All Rights Reserved By This Author
Meloo/Melissa A Howells  straight from her Tilt-a-World
childhood memory

brought about by a good experience yesterday of feeding pigeons, one little
white fella who was very sweet and brave who came right up to us when we gave
him/her our naan and rice. this happened yesterday with B. this little pigeon
was so persistent that I felt he almost would have followed us home. Its been
monstrously cold here. I favored him as much as I could, as he was quite thin
and his feathers looked poorly.

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