- Conchs

Facing due east, Conch shells line the porch rails
As if they were amulets guarding my soul

From the magical charms of English Mount
Her hills quiet for the present, green and still

Multi-hued a rainbow sparkles left
A river of milk-y clouds fill hollows

Grapevine, Shropshire, Muddy, Indian Creek-all
A tiny iridescent bluebird flits

To the taller cedar beyond their watch
My eye lures to its pensive inspection

A cardinal darts from one of the
Heart -shaped leaves of the pod-ing red bud

To the right of their line of guard grey
Doves doze a few feet from a well hidden

Nest, a hawk casts an angled eerie
Mammoth shadow setting off a chorus

Of crow and songbird protest as if they were
Yard-dogs warden –ing for a beloved

Child as the darkening cedars forewarn
Tiny bush pilots to sing it away

(May 28,2009)

by Debora Short

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