Poetry by Wesley Sims
Early morning, a gloomy Christmas day,
with only mild expectations,
noisy birds gathering for breakfast outside.
I trudge to the kitchen for morning tea,
pull the blinds, put out some feed.
Within minutes three bluebirds arrive
and perch the porch rail near the patio door.
Their bold blue feathers seem to shine
like robes in the beam of brightening sky.
They seem not in a hurry to eat,
peer at me for a while as if
to ask a question. I ponder how three
is a perfect number so fitting this day.
They fly away but leave their gifts—
beauty and hope and a helping of cheer.
One soon returns to sit, and lingers.
Here for seconds or to tell me something?
If a bird could talk what would it say?
He tilts his head up toward the sky,
sits motionless for five full minutes.
Finally lowers his little blue head
and gazes at me through the glass.
Sits almost still for five minutes more.
I’ve fed the birds in winter for years
but never before witnessed such a scene.
I bow my head, and offer thanks.
Wesley Sims has published three chapbooks of poetry: When Night Comes, 2013; Taste of Change, 2019; and A Pocketful of Little Poems, 2020. His work has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies, and he has had poems nominated for Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize.
