A Phoebe in Maine

In the shining green of damp leaves

In the liquid gray of summer rain

The small, gray bird landed

clinging

To the bark of a tree

It flew to a wire

--and tried to shade itself

It flew to the woodpile

--and pumped its tail,

And then while I watched,

With wide eyes and pumping heart,

--it flew away.

Kathie Adams Brown (July 11, 2003) Livermore Falls, Maine

The Mulberry Tree

I watched each leaf unfurl in springtime
and then each blossom with bees nuzzling into
each delicious throat,
and as the berries ripened to red,
and then deep purple,
the catbirds came,
dressed all in gray,
with fine dark berets,
and cinnamon breaches,
they feasted and fed,
filling their beaks and bellies
with the ripening fruit.

But the fruit has gone by
and there are no birds in the Mulberry Tree;
only the groundhogs that have grown fat in its shade
waddle around beneath the tree as it leans out over the yard
reaching for the sun.

And while cicadas whine in the woodland,
the fledgling blue jays flutter and fret,
begging the adults to still feed them.
there are no catbirds in the Mulberry Tree
because summer is half gone
now.

~Kathie Adams Brown (July 17, 2012)

A Walk Among the Fireflies Canto III

Firefly Questions

I took a walk this evening

Just to stretch my legs

And clear my head

So on this summer’s night

Thick with the promise of a thunderstorm

I walk the streets of my neighborhood

Past familiar houses

With lights and families inside

Past the old meadow

Which remembers a long gone farm,

Past the tree-lined bog

Now silent for the night

Save for the infrequent croaking

Of a bull frog.

Around the bend I go

Into the newest neighborhood

With houses big as mansions

Painted every shade of a muted rainbow,

Meant to make them appear different,

Yet unable to hide the fact that

they are pretty much all the same.

Along the edge of the park I walk,

Where fireflies flash between the trunks of an oak wood,

And a small bunny rabbit scampers across my path

And into the rose thicket

Presenting me with an evening’s delight!

And I can’t help but wonder

If the children in these monstrous homes

Watching TV, playing video games,

Or texting their friends realize

what a wonder is waiting for them

right outside their doors?

And I can’t help but wonder if they even care,

Or if their will even be fireflies 20 years from now

And will the next generation even know what they are?

~Kathie Adams Brown (June 22, 2012)

A Walk Among the Fireflies Canto II

A Firefly Waltz

In the muggy, humid air of summer

I watch the fireflies dance

Above the soggy, boggy swamp,

Where green cattail spears stand tall

And point their fuzzy cinnamon spears to the sky,

I watch the insects flash and fly

And listen to the bullfrog chorus

Croak a song more ancient than

The surrounding trees,

And still the fireflies blink and flash,

A primitive dance, a primal thing,

Of earth, and skies and seasons,

The pulsing rhythm of life,

The mating rite of summer.

~Kathie Adams Brown (June 22, 2012)