LIFE AT THE BIRD FEEDER

I love sitting at the window and watching the birds cluster around the bird feeder. Gwen loved it too, she loved nature and the out of doors.  Such fond memories of her.  I wrote this poem about it:

LIFE AT THE BIRDFEEDER

Missing the one who flew through life with me

is like the birds at the feeder outside my window.

The monochrome grey of grackles,

an occasional flash of cardinal red, the breast of a robin

the exciting gold of a finch; then

the grey and brown returns with the sparrows

flitting and fluttering about, alive and lively,

but still, so grey and brown,

searching only for the seeds of another day

of happy living.

John A. Bayerl, July 4, 2011

Our friends from U. P., Al and Mary, are in town, Dear, I had breakfast with them this morning; we had a great time reminiscing.  Am I the luckiest guy in the world, or what?--to have former students like Al and many more who have now become good friends and such an important part of my support network.  There is a certain  sadness too when I remember that the first time Al and Mary visited us in Ann Arbor we had lunch at the Cottage Inn; a place that is now sacred in my memory because it's where we had lunch with many of our friends after our final farewell at St. Mary Church.