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The Hope Of All These Things Which Would Never Come In a Box

in the afternoon
much later in the day when the sky begins to darken
I watch them gathering
one by one

some in groups
some alone and falling behind
some in pairs

winging their way
towards night
and roost

I wonder
is this one lonely
what effort does it take
each day
to get there
because all of them must

is that one hungry
or hurting
getting older
is this one young and naive
many youngsters do not make it
to the age of two

what would I do
and what would it  be like
if I were one of them

life is short
and how we cling,
cleave to and cleave on...
when some days it takes
so much effort

and yet
there is the joy
in the simplest act,
in watching
wild things fly
to a place they will be safe
maybe with the promise of warmth
and comfort

for it is this
that we all look for:
the simple
the comfort
the warmth...
the hope of all these things
which would never come
in a box.

legal copyright for this poem 2:12AM December 16th 2019
time and date stamped...I believe today is Beethoven's Birthday
and it is the remembered birthday of a long-remembered and
treasured friend Helen Olson who is one of my old friends
I worked with who were The December Ladies...RIP.
legal copyright for this writer Melissa A. Howells
and also for this legally copyrighted site title
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World

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