Beetlebung and Kettlehole--April Poems

Next Door

Bird feeder in the next yard
swings empty with the wind.
New people, young and rowdy,
false airs and fire in the core,
summon a storm of internal complaints,
but I transmute what I hear.

         Nothing sinister in this
         life's haunting, changing patterns.

David, the World War II vet,
last Christmas Eve,
handed me a bear, and
not to be outdone, his wife Dot
endorsed by her inimitable O.C.D
rearranged my kitchen drawers.

         Nothing sinister in this
         life's haunting, changing patterns.

The stuffing is falling
out of the bear now, and
in my kitchen, I can't ever find
anything, but chiefly, I can't stand
to see the feeder empty,
spooked by the missing birds.


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Prompt: neighbor