In the growing dusk she sat –

in her favorite chair on the porch.

This was her ritual,

something to look forward to –

as the light faded.

The day’s tasks done,

fulfillment.

 

Another day among so many,

now thoughts of distant family

and departed friends visited her.

Not sadly but in an awareness

of time and distance.

Would they come to her again?

Like the Black Stilts –

that stalked the stream –

in the wet lands, scything for prey.

 

She loved these ancient birds,

black suits and red stockings,

how tidy they looked.

How bravely –

they protected their young.

How sad that their numbers –

are dwindling, how very sad;

like old friends and family.

 

The Black Stilts are endangered!

How bereft the world would be

if there were no Black Stilts –

to wade the stream in the meadow.

She watched them carefully,

lovingly remembering them.

A part of her life etched in her mind.

One day, like them, she would also be,

a happy memory.

 
 
David Garlick, Sidney, April, 2007