This poem was inspired by Mary Oliver’s White-Eyes.
Memory of a Catbird in the Snow
Was it a late or early snow?
Memory fails except for the catbird,
its slate gray stark against unmarred white
its hops as uncertain as my thoughts certain
"You should not be here, little bird.
You should be south with umbrella drinks,
white sand, aqua blue oceans, warm."
Not here where I’ll wonder about you
decades later.
Sascha Darlington
Wow. Decades later. I have a few things like that. Haunting.
Yeah, certain images, memories, for whatever reason never leave.
Really lovely. Such a warning.
Thank you, Mandi! 🙂