Bittersweet

Sitting in this quiet studio

(husband and son off on their adventures in the world)

as snow falls steadily outside. 

Hours spent this morning on the phone and computer,

attending to - caring for - relationships. 

Now I turn to the strand of bittersweet,

clipped and unwound from the rose brambles, 

waiting for me . . .

  

Found

This cold morning

I glance out the door

and see the body of a blue jay

scattered on the stones. 

At first - not wanting to look. 

Then carrying the pieces into the studio

and silently attending with my eyes - 

connected to my hand - 

touching brush and paint and paper . . .