Where Someplace Now a Downy
The moon has risen up
The snow has fallen down
The cold has set itself inside
Each member of the town
While on my porch in quiet
I breathe the misty chill
Remark to self the silence
Of each surrounding hill
Where someplace now a Downy
Is sleeping in a tree
Waiting out the cold snap
Alongside wife he be
In bed of woodchip blanket
In home of limb of dead
He spends the night deep dreaming
With fluffy belly fed
And once near morn he stirs
To sound below on ground
His little lady hears it too
His warming wing spreads ‘round
Her slender shoulders, tense
Her dark red open eye
Her velvet head is burrowed deep
Into his side, she sighs
As little chests return to
The night’s deep rhythmic beat
Before the sun stirs up the hills
Before the moon’s retreat
Anniversary Poem 2022
While tidying up I uncovered a tote
Buried beneath a closet heap
A pouch of prints showing how I’d dote
On that girl whose heart I continue to keep
Of adventures had in distant days
A multitudinous display
There were campers in Iceland and Coney Island;
Her bob cut, my jeans and black shirt;
In the former days when I was too thin
We’d shoot pool and stay out and make out and flirt!
Enjoying all there was to find
I came across two of one kind
In both that eager Emerald Eye
Held trance with chin turned low
In both on breeze a tress let fly
To barely brush her even brow
Wait – Do curls compared appear
To differ by a millimeter?
No sense in keeping dupes to cherish
But if unique and one be tossed
With it a piece of me will perish
With it an instant will be lost
It’s an awful thought to entertain
So back in tote I placed prints again
Jarad Bushnell is a data scientist who lives in Philadelphia with his wife and cat. His poetry has appeared in Grand Little Things, WestWard Quarterly, and others. He enjoys calisthenics, birdwatching, and exploring nature. You can find his published work at JaradBushnellPoetry.com.
Sparks of Calliope 