Giving

Every day in the park,

he shared.

Scattered crumbs,

the happy chirruping

of his fellow party goers

a symphony to his ears;

whilst at his feet, leaves swirled

in approval, becoming alive again.

Passing by, there were those 

that understood,

those that didn't.

But all nodded a greeting,

somehow assured

by his metronomic presence;

the lightness of feathers

surrounding him like a halo,

'It rained today,' someone said

to someone else, their footfall
receding as time slipped.
'Bit of a chill in the air,

but he was still there.'

'Yes, he must be lonely,'

came the reply from someone

who didn't understand.

'Still, as long at is makes

him happy, and the birdsong
is rather pleasant.'

Then, one day, early autumn,

as shadows lengthened

and days became shorter,

he wasn't there.

A puzzle to those who

didn't understand;

especially when the birds

still chirruped and the

leaves swirled, as if waiting.  

'I expect he's passed away,'

someone said to someone else

after a week had gone by.

'He was pretty old wasn't he.'

"Yes, but he was never lonely,'

someone who understood replied.

'Giving does that for you.'

Reviews

[Patricia Wedel]

dearest Beccy... I am deeply touched by your poem... never lonely even when we give to our feathered friends. And sometimes when we give to each other we get that feathery feeling.
I love the poem, The touch of the Masters Hand... about an Auction where no one bid on an old violin that was battered and torn... then an old man in the back took the Old Violin and with the Bow played the most beautiful music... and so it is in Life... you never know until the touch of the Masters Hand reaches within and the Beauty appears. truly, Pat

[R.E. Ray]

Beccy, as your poem shows, giving connects us to others. It's how God intended. We're communal beings and part of nature. When we give attention to the small things around us, it makes us larger and fulfilled. I wonder if he passed away or moved to another place to share more crumbs with others. This is an remarkable poem and short story in one.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

this is a wonderful story....a man who gives will always have friends, and that is worth than any money or possession we could amass in our lifetime.
those who give of themselves deserve heaven in the end.
such beauty and warmth in this write.
j.

[emmajoy]

' .. from someone - who didn't understand. - 'Still, as long at is makes - him happy, and the birdsong
is rather pleasant. ''

O my oh my . .. how wonderful is that. You've written so many great poems, Beccy , hut, truly, this is extraordinarily special. Your stanzas become more and more visua l They slowly, slowly turn from calm moments into a sense of pathos until.. until that last stanza which could be - might be.. called the most beautiful of epitaphs. Had to re.write my review three times.. my heart's pumping.. that is the finest writing.