MELANCHOLIA

Itís an early summer day, going to be a hot one.
Iím away from home, I'm working; the sky is solidly blue
with just a chalk smear of clouds. So why this melancholy?
Why these blues? Nothing Iíve done seems to matter; I
could leave tomorrow and no one would notice, thatís how
invisible I feel. But look, thereís a pair of cardinals
on the weathered table, pecking at sunflower seeds
which Iíve brought from home. They donít seem
particularly grateful. Neither does the sky, no matter
how I transcribe it. I wanted to do more in this life,
not the elusive prizes, but poems that astonish.
A big flashy jay lands on the table, scattering seeds
and smaller birds. They regroup, continue to hunt
and peck on the lawn.
~Barbara Crooker

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