Birdhouse
       

In the garden a single rose,
and though it was a beauty, a brilliant red,
we'd hoped for more, an extravagance of buds,
blossoms, and blooms, visible from our empty house.
We settled for what we could get, then birds
came to the feeder and roused us
with song, music that pierced the heart under the ribs.
Cardinals, goldfinches, nuthatches-some kind of IOU?
a gift of compensation? Not one sour
note sounded from the garden bed.
Profusion of feathers, music, and the persistent scent of rose.

Copyright © 2010 Diane Lockward All rights reserved
from Temptation by Water
Wind Publications
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission