he'd be the breeze

sitting with the things

i came in with,

putting all my eggs in a basket

and hunkering down,

there are chickadees in the tree

i call home.

one bird grabbed a sunflower seed.

a squirrel sat enviously,

devouring sunlight.

there was a mud puddle where

snow should have been.

the chimes sang with the breeze.

i remembered the song from my youth.

my only brother called,

but i didn't hear him:

he has no voice.

if he were a chickadee,

he'd be sounding off all the time,

especially when he was hungry.

if he were a chime,

he'd be the breeze.