A hummingbird once decided to make her nest on a brach just outside my office window. Days, weeks, months passed as I anxiously waited for baby hummingbirds to appear. But it was not to be, she moved on.
Her nest serves as a reminder to me that we're here on this earth for just a season. It may be a long season, it may be a short one, but it's the quality, not the quantity, that matters--it's the profound lasting impression one leaves upon others that counts. Today I celebrate John Finn, who turns 72. For his positive influence, I am truly grateful.
one picture puzzle piece
lyin' on the sidewalk,
one picture puzzle piece
soakin' in the rain.
it might be a button of blue
on the coat of a woman
who lived in a shoe.
it might be a magical bean,
or a fold in the red
velvet robe of a queen.
it might be the one little bite
of the apple her stepmother
gave to snow white.
it might be the veil of a bride
or a bottle with some evil genie inside.
it might be a small tuft of hair
on the big bouncy belly
of bobo the bear.
it might be a bit of the cloak
of the witch of the west
as she melted to smoke.
it might be a shadowy trace
of a tear that runs down an angel's face.
nothing has more possibilities
than one old wet picture puzzle piece.